Best Fuck For The Month Of March free porn video
The sweet looking little bitch was riding me when her boyfriend called. I was laid out on my bed—no way was I going to fuck her at the apartment this cute, diminutive bodied sexpot shared with her wild man beau. I knew some of their neighbors monitored her comings and goings, pardon the pun.
Forgive my crudeness, but she was—is—a little bitch. But she also qualifies as “The Best Fuck of the Month for March.”
For the record, I was getting to play with an incredible body. Standing just 5 feet tall with a set of wide hips, round ass and big bulbous boobs, sporting great looking tan lines, waxed pubis and with a nympho-like sex drive, I was having one hell of a Saturday morning fucking this young little vixen’s snug pussy, getting in some fine titty fucking, getting my cock sucked and balls licked. Then in the middle of our third fuck, her cell phone went off to the theme of “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.”
It has been a while since I’ve made an entry in “The Best Fuck of the Month” series. October, to be precise, was my last offering. Sadly, November and December were months during which the number of my sexual encounters took a decidedly downward turn.
This isn’t necessarily unusual at that time of year. Recall that one of my fuck buddies, Helen, is married with a couple twenty-something offspring so family matters encroach on our ability to rendezvous for rutting around the holidays. And, Stella is a single mom with a live in, twenty-seven year old, newly divorced daughter. Stella owns two dress shops so the holidays are always busy for her from Thanksgiving to Christmas.
Further, I am somewhat saddened to report that Stella and I ended our randy, raucous relationship a week before Christmas. The sex was great throughout our yearlong go at it, but the drama surrounding us became simply too much for me—the law of diminishing returns coming into play.
Recall from a previous entry that when I would spend the night at Stella’s place, her sister Cindy had an innervating habit of dropping by in the morning, letting herself into the house and coming into the bedroom, sitting on the bed. Stella’s daughter also would come in, sit on the bed and we would all drink coffee as if we were a pleasant little coffee club—convening each time Stella and I would fuck throughout the night before. Among the distressing difficulties such little gatherings caused was when I had the urge to go to the bathroom, me being naked beneath the covers.
One morning, after Stella and I had spent the night at her place, us awakening and immediately getting after it, starting with a nice 69, then me finishing off all over her titties, she had showered and gone off to work. I had slept in a bit—then, while sitting up in bed had returned some e-mails and made some calls. I guess it was around nine or so, when I got up, donned my pants and went downstairs for some coffee.
As I’m waiting for it to brew, I heard Stella’s daughter come out of her room and bound down the stairs. She was talking on the phone and I turned to see she was wearing a pair of cotton panties, but otherwise naked. Her titties were pretty, C-cups I guess. She nonchalantly waved at me and grabbed a cup from a cabinet. I edged aside so she could pour some coffee. And, then the young woman, still talking on the phone, walked out, glancing back at me—yes, catching me staring.
Now, I am a horny man. There is no denying it, and yes, I jacked off to the memory of her tits and ass—but I’ve lived long enough to realize that a disaster was in the making. Sure enough, two days later I retrieved a heated message from my voice mail: Stella asked me if I had made a pass at her sister!?! Not her daughter, but her sister! Imagine my confusion. Things didn’t only go downhill from there—it was an avalanche.
However, not all was lost during the holidays. I coupled, romped and rutted with Crazy Mary a couple times. I fucked the bartender Mandy once—well, several times throughout a wild Sunday afternoon of boozing, bucking and fucking, sucking and licking where we were joined for a while by a neighbor of hers. The neighbor was a bit small breasted for my taste, but she had an ass “to die for,” an ass to “rob a bank for,” hell, an ass to “lie, cheat and steal for!
I suppose that afternoon could have qualified as the “Best Fuck for the Month of December.” But, frankly, I don’t remember much of it!
Thus, I entered the year 2014 minus a bed buddy. And, Helen’s husband was once again going through a jealous, suspicious phase. In addition, I was very busy with work during the months of January and February.
Funny how life sometimes just happens. That is to say, our life’s journey is made more interesting by surprises, moments of serendipity, the unexpected and unexplained. Indulge me.
The weather in Houston this time of year, March, is mercurial to say the least. One day, the high temperature is in the upper thirties, the next in the upper sixties. It was one of those overcast afternoons and I was sitting in a favorite Irish pub—downtown. I had finished up two meetings that morning and a luncheon with some associates, stopping in at the bar for some warmth and shelter from the gray sky and steady drizzle. Oh, and for a pint or two.
I was in a suit, my London Fog d****d over the back of my bar stool. My tablet open, me texting, e-mailing.
The bartender, whom we know as Rugby Ron, a red faced, red haired expat from Dublin, was at the far end of the bar on my left, talking on his cell phone. To my right, a young couple sat at the opposite end of the bar. Behind me, three business men, neck-tied, were sitting around a table, chatting amiably, drinking beer—apparently not worried about returning to the office any time soon.
Suddenly, the young man from the couple was standing beside me, leaning in close and glaring, “What the fuck is your problem old man?”
Shocked, I leaned away from him. He was clad in a black t-shirt, black leather jacket, baseball cap on backwards, short but muscular, a bundle of wired energy. The young woman was immediately behind him, “Donnie, don’t be an asshole. Leave him alone.”
To his credit, Rugby Ron was on the scene, “Donnie, step it down, mate. Dean’s been working and believe me, with who he knows, you don’t want to fuck with him.”
It took half an hour before Ron was able to negotiate this guy Donnie to close out. As the couple were leaving he did that silly gesture of pointing at his eyes with two fingers and then aiming them at me as if to say, “I’m watching you.”
I had asked Rugby Ron what that was all about.
Ron had answered, “Well, you saw the hot little piece he was with. He gets crazy jealous. And honestly Dean, she did keep looking at you, over his shoulder. She’s a little tripper. I hate it when they come in on a weekend night—she likes to stir things up. We’re all on tenterhooks the entire time they are here—waiting for pint glasses to start flying.”
I have to say honestly, I never really got a good look at the young woman. Only a glimpse or two. Pretty, short, possibly Hispanic is all I could say about her.
I put the incident out of mind, sort of, until the following Thursday, when the weather turned warmer, with a blinding blue sky. Great bicycling weather. That morning I loaded my bike onto my Land Rover and went to my office which is southeast of downtown, in what we call the Medical Center area.
Around noon, I rode my bicycle to a neat little icehouse in the Montrose section of Houston, where I like to watch the bartender Sally’s alabaster boobies jiggle and bobble about in her trademark tight, scoop necked t-shirt. She’s always good for shaking them around for us regulars.
It is a typical Texas icehouse in many ways, garage doors that are opened up in nice weather. But it caters to a younger set, college students, and yuppies. However, there are a handful of guys my age who drop in on a semi-regular basis and we tend to take over and control a particular table. The staff has dubbed us The Board of Directors.
I was into my second pint when she suddenly appeared at my side—this little hellcat who introduced herself as Maritza. She actually gave me a hug. The other guys at the table, Tucker, Hartman, Ross, a couple other guys, grew quiet, attentive to her pretty round face, wild waves and curls and chaos of black hair and abundant breasts buoyed up in a tight pink cotton top.
Maritza apologized for Donnie’s behavior the previous week and when I asked where prince charming was, she said he was at work.
She went up to the bar, and then returned to a pack of younger people who had commandeered a picnic table. The boys were loud, lots of testosterone. The girls laughed and giggled.
Sally brought our table a fresh round of beers and told me that Maritza had bought mine. Then, Sally said, “Look Dean sweetie, stay away from her. She is like a tornado honey. When she drops in, you can’t take your eyes off her—but before you know it, you are laying in the midst of wreckage. She is trouble.”
Needless to say, my table mates got a fine chuckle.
Not two minutes later, Maritza came back to the bar—without looking my way. Her ass looked fine in tight jean shorts, tanned thunder thighs. I had the brief thought that Dickhead Donnie was one lucky fucker, one lucky fucker indeed—but that keeping all that to himself was no doubt a tough task.
As I was leaving, Maritza called out to me, “Bye Dean!” The pack around her quieted for a moment and looked my way as I unchained my bike. I waved and said, “Be careful little girl.”
On Tuesday morning the following week, as I was at work sitting at my desk, my cellphone rang. It was Tucker, one of the guys who had sat around the table with me at the icehouse that day when Maritza had been present. Tucker, a fellow member of the Board of Directors, said he and a couple other “directors” were having beers the previous Saturday at the icehouse when “that little Latina spitfire came in.” Maritza apparently had caused quite a stir among the young bucks who proceeded to buy her shots
Tucker went on to explain, “I’ve heard that she has burned her way through a number of bars, her and that Yeti boyfriend of hers getting banned and having to move on to wreak havoc someplace else.. But after pounding Red Bulls and vodka for an hour or so she noticed me.” Tucker told me that she had recognized him and asked, “Is Dean coming here today? He needs to call me.”
“Now,” Tucker continued, “Ross and Charlie and me, being such good buddies of yours offered to step up in your absence, but she wrote down her number for you.”
Tucker recited her number and right before we ended the connection said, “Be careful old son. Between her and Donnie Destructo, I see guns of various calibers, and cans of gasoline and sharp blades and flying rocks in your future.”
I had to laugh. Tucker, our resident poet.
To my credit, I didn’t call her until Thursday. And when I did, it went straight to voice mail. I took a gamble and decided to go for it, “This is Dean. You now have my number.”
I found myself anxious, realized that I really did want to get naked with and fuck that “little spitfire.” She finally called late Friday morning, and I had to resist the temptation to jump on the call. When she called the second time—I had answered.
So yes, that Saturday morning, Maritza was working that ass of hers up and down, her young snug pussy jacking my dick. She had her hands pressed into the bed on either side of my head, her big beauties pressing against me, her gorgeous ass cheeks in my hands. Then the damned phone had rang.
Of course recognizing the ringtone, Maritza had hissed, “Shit, that’s Donnie.”
“Don’t stop fucking, baby.”
“I have to answer or he’ll get suspicious.”
“I thought he was going offshore this morning.” It seems Donnie works for a company that
consults for offshore drilling operations and about once a month has to spend a couple days on platforms out in the Gulf of Mexico.
“He is baby, don’t worry.” Maritza had leaned over to retrieve her phone—with my cock still up inside her. Maritza had sat up, still impaled on my dick and, after putting a finger to her lips as if I needed a fucking warning to be quiet, she answered the fucking phone.
“Hey Sweetie, you missing me already?”
As she talked, every few moments, Maritza would move her hips around and I would move up and down inside her pussy. Trust me, when I say that the entire time she was talking with her asshole boyfriend, I had my hands all over that delightful little fuck. I was grabbing and patting and kneading her ass cheeks. I fondled and felt her titties, making them wobble around, rising up a few times to kiss them, suck on them.
I gathered that originally the company Donnie works for was going to ship him and his fellow workers to an offshore oil rig. But a change in plans had been made and they were about to board a helicopter.
As she was riding me, Maritza carried on a crazy conversation, “Oh baby, you gave me such a good fucking this morning. I’m going to be thinking about that cock of yours all day. You know that tonight I am going to be working my clit to the memory of your dick in my pussy.”
Then, Maritza had closed her eyes, bit her lower lip and moved up and down on my dick several times. I admit to taking pure prurient delight in having my cock stuck up inside the pussy of Donnie’s girlfriend. She felt wonderful, she looked wonderful.
“No, I’m all dressed, going to the grocery store, then the farmer’s market.” There had been a pause and Maritza had rolled her eyes, even as she rolled her hips, “Okay, I’ll send it right now. Bye honey, be careful. Love ya.”
Then, while raking her clit over me, back and forth, Maritza had tapped away at her cellphone—her version of multi-tasking. “What the hell are you doing, little girl?” For the record, it still felt so damned good being up in her pussy. Hell, she could have been eating spaghetti with meat sauce for all I cared. I was fucking!
“Donnie is such an asshole. He always does this, telling me to send a photo of myself. He says it’s because he misses me, but I know it’s because he wants to know what I’m up to, keeping track of me. Asshole. How’s this?”
She had turned her phone so I could see a photo of Maritza attired in a billowing, yellow blouse and loose fitting jeans, a saddle bag sized purse dangling from her shoulder—reflected in a bathroom mirror. Even though I was fucking up in her pussy, and I had an ass cheek in one hand and a tit in the other, I had given Maritza a quizzical look.
She had explained that when Donnie was offshore, or even out drinking with his buddies, golfing or otherwise fucking off, he would call and insist on a photo or video of her. So, Maritza had stored up photos and videos of herself.
“I take photos and videos on my phone of myself in different clothes. I take shots of my pussy, my tits and ass. In my bra and panties. In the fucking bathtub. I just have to make sure I delete whatever photo or video I send him so I don’t fuck up and send the same one twice”
She had then leaned forward, hands again at either side of my head—those tits, oh those fucking tits again had pressed against my chest and I had raised my head kissed them, “Yeah, Donnie thinks I’m on my way to the grocery store.” Her breath became raspy, “But I’m on my way to another climax, riding this fine dick of yours. Hold that load, daddy.”
Now, in my mind, to me, among the most wonderful sounds in nature is that of a woman achieving climax. Stella would gasp, her face would pinch tight, eyes squinting, and then at that critical moment she would emit a loud “Oh!” or, “Oh shit!” Or, “Oh fuck!” And she would whimper through to the end.
My married bed buddy Helen also gasps, holds her breath throughout and then at the end of her climax, Helen pants. Other women I get to fuck are squealers—like Crazy Mary.
Maritza was—is—more varied but this time she began with a low keen and it built and deepened into a growl as she rode me hard and then the little fuck bitch went wild and bore down, grinding her pubic bone hard against me—it hurt like hell but Maritza was a vision of sexual self-absorption. She came and came and came. I think Maritza was fully, intensely aroused by having another man’s cock up in her pussy while she was talking to Donnie.
Maritza had fallen forward and laid out on me, catching her breath, “Fuck that was a good one, Dean.” I had rubbed over her ass, loving the feel of those magnificent breasts pressed between us. And then, I had gently rolled her over. My cock had slipped out of her pussy. I had loomed over her for a time, jiggling her jugs, kissing those titties, sucking on those nipples, gazing over that lush, little, overly endowed body.
Maritza had stared at my dick, then reached for it, softly gripping me, “Fuck me with it, big daddy. Do me.”
As I had taken my cock and pressed against her pussy lips I told her, “You are such a beautiful little fuck, aren’t you?”
Maritza had gasped as I had entered her, slipped inside that pussy, and then said, “Oh Dean, I love how you’ve been getting hard for me all morning.”
Now, as any heterosexual man knows, having one’s cock up inside a woman’s pussy is one of life’s true delights. And, I knew the young woman beneath me was an avid fucker; she slept around with abandon, but her pussy did indeed feel tight, warm and wet and oh so welcoming.
I had laid out on top of her, “Damn little girl, that pussy is so wet.”
Maritza had chuckled, “Honey, that’s your fault. Do we need to do something about that, daddy?”
I had replied, eyes clinching, body tensing with the pure joy of having my cock in a very young pussy, “No baby, it feels so good. You are such a sweet little fuck.”
Maritza had bucked up against me a few times, “Fuck me, Dean. Get after it big daddy. Fuck my little pussy.”
I had picked up the pace, laid out flat onto her lush body, savoring all that tactile pleasure, loving her hands moving over my back and ass, “Oh little girl, this is my pussy today—mine to fuck. You’re my little fuck whore today.”
“Oh yes daddy, fuck your little slut, baby. Fuck my little pussy like you own it!”
This had set me off and I was determined to show her what a pussy pumping, piston fucking fool I could be—I pummeled that little bitch. And throughout my fucking, Maritza was grunting, huffing and cursing, “Shit, fuck! Oh shit, get it! Get it! Oh yes, nail it, nail my fucking ass down!” She kept gripping my ass, and urging me on.
With this third go at Maritza I had alternated between lying flat out on top of her rich body and then resting on extended arms where I could watch her pretty face, her pretty titties lolling around, and my cock slicking in and out of her pretty pussy.
When I climaxed, I did so with a growl. I thrashed around, I hammered down on Maritza’s sweet body.
When I was fully spent, I had spaced out on top of her. We had laid there for a time, catching our breath, cooling off. Maritza had patted my ass and gasped out—little potty mouth that she is, “Shit, fuck! Son of bitch, Dean. You sure can shoot some loads, baby. Fuck, you can pump some cum. Damn big daddy.”
I had stayed inside her for a while, still fucking that pussy. But I did eventually roll off of Maritza. We had cuddled for time—post coital bliss. At that time, I had concluded the only time when Maritza could be considered sweet was when she had just been licked or fucked to a climax. By her admission, Donnie and she had fucked in the morning, and, with me, in addition to licking her to completion at the beginning of our first go at it I had done her three times. The little bunny liked to fuck.
She felt so soft and warm and lush up against me, resting in the crook of my right arm where I could reach down and pat her ass. With my other hand I had fondled that right tit. Maritza had gossiped about some of the regulars and staff at two or three of the bars we both frequented. I lazed and listened—enjoying the feel of her. I remember looking out the open French doors that emptied onto my third story balcony, seeing the bright blues sky, the soft breeze ruffling treetops. I recall feeling awash with that satisfied sense of wellbeing that comes with being both well fucked and the awareness that I am going to get to fuck some more.
It was about 11:30 in the morning and this little slut and her wonderfully apportioned body had already gotten three cum blasts from me. She had gently taken my cock in hand and commenced to stroke me softly, delicately. Amazingly, I had felt myself growing hard again. I had gently rolled her onto her back, mounted her and pressed against those tight pussy lips.
Her surprise was, I believe, very sincere, “Oh fuck, Dean. You’re hard again, already? Damn, you are one horny man.”
“It’s this sweet little body of yours, little girl. These tits, ass, all of it. Damn, you’re a fine little fuck.”
I had pushed into Maritza’s pussy and proceeded to slowly, languidly fuck her. I had decided to make this go at her last. To wit, Maritza had sighed throughout, “Oh yes, Dean, I like that, I like that a lot.”
Now, a word about my townhome. Yes, indulge me a moment. After my divorce, it took me two years to recover financially. A few years ago, I sold a nice piece of property on Galveston Island. I joined with four other guys and invested half the proceeds in a ten unit townhome development in mid-town Houston. Instead of taking out profit, my cut on the deal was title to the anchor unit.
The ground floor is, of course, the garage, half of which I have turned into a workshop for my bicycles, storage for my kayak, and so forth.
The second level is comprised of a large living room, a sizeable kitchen well-appointed with restaurant grade appliances. There is a half bath and a den that I have fashioned into a proverbial man-cave: full bar, two big screens, sound system. This level looks out onto a sizable deck where I have a hot tub. The back side of the townhomes overlook a heavily foliaged city park. Plus, along the back there are a row of trees. The point is, I can take women out onto the deck, get them naked and romp and rut on the deck, play in the hot tub.
The third story has two bedrooms—one of which I have turned into a study/office. There are two full baths. There is an open, loft area where I also have set up as a small den. The master bedroom has been fashioned into a playroom, a fuck room--to be frank. A wet bar, liquor cabinet, mini-frig. And, then there are the mirrors. My sliding door closet, on the right hand side as you are facing the headboard, is mirrored. On the left, I have positioned a tri-paneled mirror and a double paneled one at the foot of the bed. These feed both my exhibitionist and voyeuristic tendencies.
And there we were, me laid out on top of Maritza, slowly, steadily pumping pussy—both of us, watching ourselves in the mirrors, fucking.
“Oh Dean, we’re making some good sex today, baby.”
Maritza had raised her left hip to accommodate me as I reached under to grab some ass, “Damn little girl, you put out good.”
At that point, I was uncertain if I could achieve climax so soon after I had just shot a load of spunk—but my dick was sure as hell hard. And it felt so damned good just fucking away the day, literally.
After a few minutes, I had pulled out and Maritza said, while staring at my dick, “Oh baby, where are you going with that cock?”
I had told her, while jacking on my dick, leering at that body, those titties, that pussy, that adorable looking face, “Roll over baby, stick that big, beautiful bitch ass up in the air for me. I want to get after that pussy from behind.”
Right now, dear reader, let me assure you that as I describe this moment, I am rock hard to the memory of Maritza rolling over, those big fucking titties lolling about, her raising up on her knees, offering up that ass for my viewing, and presenting that pussy once more for me to fuck. Well, excuse me while I take a little jack off break.
I stayed back there for quite a while—pumping that pussy, banging that butt, ramming that rump. I had alternated between being on my knees, humping her, and then easing the little fuck onto her stomach so I could lay out on her and enjoy the feel of her ass cheeks beneath me. At one point, while I was thusly laid out on top of her I had whispered, gasped, “You feel that cock up in that pussy, little girl?”
Maritza, sweetly, had said, “Shit, fuck! Feels like a fucking fist stuffed in there. Damn, big daddy, you sure know how to fuck a pussy—fuck! Damn, you sure can get after it!”
As I’ve said, I spent a lot of time back there, humping and pumping. Yes, I had a great time doing her doggie style. Still unsure whether I could achieve a climax. And I did indeed, “get after it,” made those ass cheeks quiver and quake, made that sweet little bitch moan and groan and curse. I was a flat out pussy pumping fool.
A sheen a sweet had formed over my forehead and I had begun to huff and gasp. I suddenly had become desperate to shoot off a load. I had pulled out, backed off the bed, and while jacking on my dick to the sight of her, I had ordered “Move over here, little girl. Get back on your hands and knees. Get that ass up here for me. Where is that little pussy? I need to finish off this round.”
I had continued to fuck her and it did take a while for me to climax, it was Maritza’s dirty talk that got me worked up, “Oh Dean, big daddy, we look good fucking, just look how you make my titties swing. Oh you’re my pussy fucker today, baby. Oh you know how to get it done, big daddy.”
I had resumed my hard driving pussy pumping. Her grunts and yelps just urged me on to rabid rump ramming. Right before I did indeed achieve a climax I had growled out, “Oh you get me so sexed up, you little bitch—damn, you are one fine fuck! Take my load you little whore! Take it!”
“Oh yes, give it to me big daddy! Show me again what a man you are! Pump it!”
Yes, at that moment of exquisite release, I was proud of my cock, proud of my fucking, proud of my loads.
“You’re my little whore to fuck today—my little fuck bitch! Mine!”
“Oh yes,” Maritza had yelped out, “Oh yes, yours to fuck, big daddy—all day!”
Well, that had tipped me over the edge into a climax.
When I had finished shooting off inside her, Maritza had fallen forward, laughing, “Shit!”
Half an hour, after we had cleaned ourselves, Maritza had poured a healthy gin and tonic, I had grabbed a beer and we were sitting in my hot tub. I was feeling so fucking fine. It was sometime around noon and the neighborhood had been fully alive with Saturday morning busy-ness. A lawnmower ground over thick grass somewhere. A dog barked. A car door slammed shut. A truck a few blocks over had grumbled. And there I was, in my hot tub naked with a big tittied, broad bottomed, healthy hipped woman three years younger than my daughter sitting within arm’s reach—with her titties bobbing about in the churning water. Yes, I was feeling fine, so fucking fine.
Our deal was this: Maritza had agreed to be my “lay around” girl until about six in the evening. In return for financial consideration. When I had called the little fuck the day before, Maritza had led me on, telling she thought I was hot and sexy and she wondered what it might be like hook up with me and party. But, of course, there was a catch.
As a control factor, Donnie does not want Maritza working fulltime. She works part time in her father’s trucking company. So, Maritza claimed she never had enough money and had to rely on Donnie for car payments, funds for sundries and food. I am convinced that Maritza is simply playing Donnie. She, frankly, fucks for money. The job at the trucking company is in reality a cover. Her real money is made by doing guys like me.
However, the sex for money element notwithstanding, Maritza liked to buck and fuck. And, she seemed to appreciate my sexual stamina. We played in the hot tub and on the patio for a good hour or so. Now, I didn’t climax at any point during that time—but I still played. Yes, I fucked like a champ.
We fell into a great rhythm. I would lick Maritza’s pussy—making her moan—until she was wet. Then, she would suck, lick, kiss and stroke my dick, and titty fuck me, until I was ready for more rutting. Yes, all during that fuck frenzied hour or so, I spent a lot of time in that woman’s pussy.
I also spent a lot of time with my dick in her lip rich mouth. That little whore could—can—sure suck cock. Maritza would position me on the edge of the hot tub, or on a patio chair and get to work on getting me hard. Head bobbing up and down, lips gripping my shaft, fingers flicking my balls, licking me, kissing my dick—then, once the little bitch had me all worked up, “Oh Dean, shit, your hard. Fuck me with me it again.”
Also, throughout, I roamed my hands, mouth and cock all over that little bitch’s body. Took my dick and tapped and spanked that ass of hers. I tapped Maritza’s titties, I fucked her titties. We had used them to hug my cock, to jack me up.
I had her ride me cowgirl, reverse cowgirl. We used my loungers where I banged her doggie style—ramming Maritza’s rump good and hard. I spaced out on top of her for some missionary style humping, alternating between pussy pumping and then straddling her at the waist so I could enjoy those big boobs.
Now, to my credit—it wasn’t all about me. I spent some quality time down between her legs, licking and kissing and tongue fucking her pussy, making her groan and moan and sigh and gasp.
Although the privacy wall between my unit and my only neighbor does a good job of muffling sound, I was afraid that the widow Mrs. Stampner would be able to hear Maritza and me in the throes of our whooping, vulgarity laced, gasping and grunting sex.
“Fuck that pussy! Dammit, give me that fucking cock!”
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“You’re my little whore today! You’re my fucking piece of ass today!”
“Oh shit! Oh big daddy, you know how to use that fuck tool of yours—shit!”
“Look at those fucking titties hop and flop! Damn, those titties get me going.”
And, so on…we were two randy, romping, rutting people getting it on in the heat of the day—simply fucking with abandon. My heart had been racing, we both had a sheen of sweat over our bodies. Little curls and commas of hair had become matted to Maritza’s face. We were gasping, panting.
Then, as I was once more looking down on her ass, watching my cock slick in and out of Maritza’s fine feeling, cock gripping pussy, as I was leaning over and watching her hanger banger titties dangling down and swinging around, I had the prurient thought, “Yeah, Donnie, don’t you worry about your little girlfriend’s fuck needs today, you asshole. I’m getting it done.”
I began to feel it build, “Oh fuck, little girl—I need to cum. I want to pump it out onto those titties again!”
Maritza had sat up, positioned herself on the edge of the lounger, “Oh yes, big daddy—you been doing me good, baby. Get your reward.”
Now dear reader, let me tell you how damned good it felt—fucking this little whore, this lush bodied little vixen in broad daylight, getting my pleasure with another man’s woman—he being a true asshole—was so exquisitely delightful. And those titties, oh those fucking titties—too big for Maritza’s hands—looked so fucking good. She jiggled them for me. She bobbed them about for me. She made them wobble around for me.
They looked beautiful—all slicked up with sunscreen. As Maritza had explained, “Can’t lose my tan lines—Donnie would go nuclear.”
I had stood there, slacked jawed and stupid with lust, jacking like a madman to the sight of those big beauties all bunched up for my viewing pleasure. And, the cum blast that ensued at the end of that session of marathon fucking was impressive—if I do say so myself. A few thick threads of milk white jism thrust out across the twin bows of her bosom. Then, I had spackled them with my spunk, gasping with each throb of pleasure.
“Damn, fuck! Big daddy, look at you go! Son of a fucking bitch, you get so loaded up baby.”
I had stood there, still jacking, “Fuck, that is one beautiful pair of cum catchers.”
Finally, spent I took a towel to my dick and balls. Maritza had gone inside, presumably to clean up. However, when she walked back out on my deck, the sweet little fuck had a beer in one hand and a fresh gin and tonic in the other. And, my jism was still spread and slicked all over her giant jiggling jugs.
“Damn Dean, good thing my boobs are big—look at all that man mess. Shit, we did good. That was some good fucking baby.”
For my part, I was exhausted. But, yes, proud of my dick, proud of my fucking and proud of my loads.
Maritza had sat down in a patio chair, a few feet from me, in all her naked splendor, finally taking a towel to her cum glazed boobs. “Baby, if we’re going to keep fucking like this, big daddy, you’re going to have feed me.”
Pizza Primo is in a small boutique shopping center a mile or so from my townhome. I picked up my cell phone and ordered up a margarita pie, Chicago style, and a New York style peperoni and jalapeno. I asked Rashid to have the driver call me when he turned into my neighborhood.
Then, I had sat down, beer bottle in one hand, my cock in the other. Yes, as the erstwhile reader has already ascertained, I liked getting my hands on that body of hers, greedily groping and grapping that rich ass of hers, smacking those cheeks, fondling and feeling those dense, drooping titties, making them bounce and bobble about. Yes, I liked moving my mouth over that rich body, loved biting that ass, sucking on those titties, kissing Maritza’s thighs and licking that pussy. I liked taking my cock and roaming over that body, taking my dick and spanking that ass, tapping those titties. I liked cuming in her and on her—pumping it into her pussy, spewing my spunk on that ass, spackling those titties.
But I also really, really liked looking at—hell, leering at, and jacking off to that ass, those titties and that shaved pussy. Maritza is a delightful looking pornographic vision.
For her part, Maritza sat there, wearing nothing but a pair of sunglasses. She watched my hand on dick action and then had put one of her legs over the arm of the chair, offering up a lewd spread. Maritza had sipped her gin and tonic, while watching me jerk off to her, she had casually begun to rub her clit. Maritza talked, prattled on about a few people I knew, several I knew vaguely and many I did not know at all.
Here is some of Maritza’s stream of consciousness meanderings.
“I like rainy days—rainy Saturdays or Sundays. Donnie gets after me four or five times—but he boozes it up too much usually and isn’t any use to me at night.
“Once, last summer I did four guys in one day. Did Donnie in the morning. When he went to work, I went to an apartment a few doors down and fucked a married guy for a couple hours. Then, in the early afternoon I did a guy in his car, in the parking lot of the Place 2B bar. Then, I got fucked by another guy in my apartment complex. I think I must have climaxed at least a dozen times that day.
Our food arrived, the driver indeed calling me as he pulled into my neighborhood. I had put on my boxers and gone to retrieve the pizzas. And, Maritza picked up her talking, chewing crazily on the pizza and, having switched to beer, guzzling, “I like being in a room with other bitches and having all the men looking at me, getting hard to me. I fucking love knowing they will go home later and jack off to me, or fuck their women while thinking about my tits and ass.
“By the way Dean, you’re a pretty impressive pussy fucker. I am not blowing smoke up your ass, big daddy. I mean it. You pack heavy. Seriously, you pump the loads, dude. And you recharge so fucking fast. And you lick pussy so fucking good—you’re magic down there. Your women must save a lot of money on batteries is all I can say.”
She proceeded to ask me about my lovers, my fuck buddies. Without mentioning names, I told her about my married bed pal Helen, the bartender Mandy, Crazy Mary and a married neighbor named Monica I have recently started fucking on a regular basis.
Maritza had asked if I fucked them as hard as I had fucked her. I had told her that I do like getting after it—even my ex-wife still comes around about once a month for some afternoon delight, cheating on her boyfriend in the process. That had emitted a lusty laugh from Maritza.
After eating, we got busy again. All fucking afternoon.
We spent most of the time in my upstairs bedroom, rolling around in bed, banging it out, bucking and fucking. I was determined to get in as much fucking as I could manage. To get me worked up and ready, Maritza gave nice full body tit rubs, front and back. Sucked on me, licked my balls.
For my part, I licked that little pussy over and over—got her worked up. I wanted her to remember me.
One of the more memorable rounds of our rutting occurred about halfway through the afternoon. We had dozed off, Maritza a snuggled up against me, my right around her. It had felt so fucking fine with her titties pressed between us, her arm and leg over me. I had awakened and immediately felt my cock stirring.
I had begun to stroke Maritza’s back and ass—this got my cock truly riled. I had then gently pulled Maritza onto her back, I had kissed her titties, gently sucked on her right nipple, then the left one—causing her to gasp and sigh. I slowly made my way down to her torso, toward her wonderland, where I once more spent a lot of time—a lot of time—kissing that pussy, her thighs, using my tongue and lips to make soft, gently love to that pussy.
Maritza at one point had lifted me up face her—her pussy was glistening. “Are you hard? Oh fuck! Of course you are hard. Oh, big daddy, fuck me with it. Oh, don’t make me beg! Fuck me!”
I had then mounted her and slipped inside. I had taken my time. I had fucked her and I fucked and I fucked and I had fucked her some more. She felt so good beneath me, her hands moving softly over my back and ass, her sighing softly, sweetly nibbling on my shoulders and earlobes. I have no idea how long we went at it for that round, but it was so nice. For the longest time we barely spoke.
Twice, Maritza asked me to do her doggie style. Each time, I had pulled out and rolled her over—but still maintained my steady, slow pace. I had roamed my hands all over every inch of her delightfully endowed body. Whenever I would reach around and jiggle, fondle her titties, Maritza would gasp out, “Oh fuck yeah, I love that shit. Get yourself some titty.”
Twice, Maritza had mounted me and rode me—the second time she climaxed, whimpering, moaning, then falling onto me. I had rolled her over and resumed my fucking. Finally, I began to slightly pick up my pace. She had urged me on, “Oh yes, oh big daddy, I feel it building. You’re such a man, such a strong pussy fucker.”
“I can’t hold it much longer. Gotta cum. Oh I need to shoot off.”
“Oh daddy, you hold it better than anybody—you’re the champ. Oh, you’re the champ. Don’t hold back. You’ve been doing me so fucking good today.”
In addition to having an incredible, dick hardening body, Maritza knew—knows—how to talk a man through to completion, “Oh yes, daddy, you’ve been fucking your woman good—you’re a man, a man, now get that reward. Yes, get what’s yours, own it. Get that pleasure, it all belongs to you.”
I had climaxed and went fucking cum creaming crazy. It was a good one—a damn fine climax. It was one of those body racking, mind blower climaxes. I felt like the king of pussy fuckers. Maritza had grunted and cursed, “Oh shit, fuck” throughout my pummeling.
Spent, I had rolled off her—and laid there in a post-coital daze.
Maritza had rolled against me, began rubbing her hands over my chest. I had put my arm around her and thought, “She is such a little bitch when she has her clothes on, but a sex goddess when she is sucking, bucking and fucking.”
Then, Maritza had said, “Damn, Dean, when you cum, you cum so hard—every time.”
“Are you okay?”
Maritza had rolled out of bed, “Honey, you and I were made for this kind of fucking.” She had spent a few minutes in the bathroom, then come out with a damp rag and towel and sweetly cleaned me off.
We fucked once more, out on the deck beside the hot tub. And, while in the shower, Maritza had jacked me off to completion. Then, she was gone. Maritza had to meet up with three girlfriends for drinks, “They’re friends, but they are also bitches. If I don’t show up, Donnie will find out.”
I had sat on my deck, sipping bourbon, resting, recharging—reviewing the day. It had one hell of a run of fucking. I remember thinking of Sarah’s warning, “She is like a tornado…” Well, my place did look like a storm had blown through: cups and towels, paper plates strewn everywhere. Bed sheet cascading over the side of my bed; chairs out of place.
As a postscript: I didn’t get with her in April. I learned that Donnie had beaten the hell out of a guy who Donnie saw patting Maritza’s ass. I guess I was a little gun shy, literally. However, in May, I needed some more of that crazy pussy action. I had bumped into her at the same icehouse, a little surprised her and Donnie were yet to be banned from said establishment. I slipped Maritza some money—per our arrangement, sort of putting that pussy of hers on retainer. I had enjoyed another full day of humping and pumping, bucking and fucking, rump ramming and rutting.
In June, well, that turned out to be a banner month for me. And, I didn’t really have time for Maritza. Stella and I resumed our fuck buddy relationship—I am now happy to report, the sex is as exuberant and satisfying as ever. And, I was able to spend a crazy weekend in Jamaica Beach with Mandy the bartender. She invited another busty friend to join us on Saturday who didn’t leave until the following Sunday afternoon—you guessed it, that will be my best fuck in the month of June—to be posted soon,
My married friend Helen and I played house at her place for a couple days—her husband John was out of town at a conference. I fucked Crazy Mary a few times—we went to a party on Lake Conroe and during that day, we twice slipped into a hallway bathroom to fuck. We ended up spending the night, and yes, banged it out a number of times.
Plus, I have a new sexual prospect—a neighbor’s wife.
Maritza texted me a few times, in June. But, I demurred. However, our plans are to get together later this week. I have reserved a room at a boutique hotel downtown, just for a change of venue. I realize this is a dangerous piece of business, and maybe that is part of the appeal. But, Maritza truly is a world class little fuck—and that body of hers is absolutely incredible.
I still hear stories from time to time about Donnie and her, craziness in bars, shouting matches, stomping and the occasional tossed pint glass. But as I sit, I am rock hard and jacking on my dick in anticipation of getting naked with Maritza and enjoying her sexual charms.
Just call me incorrigible.
Forgive my crudeness, but she was—is—a little bitch. But she also qualifies as “The Best Fuck of the Month for March.”
For the record, I was getting to play with an incredible body. Standing just 5 feet tall with a set of wide hips, round ass and big bulbous boobs, sporting great looking tan lines, waxed pubis and with a nympho-like sex drive, I was having one hell of a Saturday morning fucking this young little vixen’s snug pussy, getting in some fine titty fucking, getting my cock sucked and balls licked. Then in the middle of our third fuck, her cell phone went off to the theme of “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.”
It has been a while since I’ve made an entry in “The Best Fuck of the Month” series. October, to be precise, was my last offering. Sadly, November and December were months during which the number of my sexual encounters took a decidedly downward turn.
This isn’t necessarily unusual at that time of year. Recall that one of my fuck buddies, Helen, is married with a couple twenty-something offspring so family matters encroach on our ability to rendezvous for rutting around the holidays. And, Stella is a single mom with a live in, twenty-seven year old, newly divorced daughter. Stella owns two dress shops so the holidays are always busy for her from Thanksgiving to Christmas.
Further, I am somewhat saddened to report that Stella and I ended our randy, raucous relationship a week before Christmas. The sex was great throughout our yearlong go at it, but the drama surrounding us became simply too much for me—the law of diminishing returns coming into play.
Recall from a previous entry that when I would spend the night at Stella’s place, her sister Cindy had an innervating habit of dropping by in the morning, letting herself into the house and coming into the bedroom, sitting on the bed. Stella’s daughter also would come in, sit on the bed and we would all drink coffee as if we were a pleasant little coffee club—convening each time Stella and I would fuck throughout the night before. Among the distressing difficulties such little gatherings caused was when I had the urge to go to the bathroom, me being naked beneath the covers.
One morning, after Stella and I had spent the night at her place, us awakening and immediately getting after it, starting with a nice 69, then me finishing off all over her titties, she had showered and gone off to work. I had slept in a bit—then, while sitting up in bed had returned some e-mails and made some calls. I guess it was around nine or so, when I got up, donned my pants and went downstairs for some coffee.
As I’m waiting for it to brew, I heard Stella’s daughter come out of her room and bound down the stairs. She was talking on the phone and I turned to see she was wearing a pair of cotton panties, but otherwise naked. Her titties were pretty, C-cups I guess. She nonchalantly waved at me and grabbed a cup from a cabinet. I edged aside so she could pour some coffee. And, then the young woman, still talking on the phone, walked out, glancing back at me—yes, catching me staring.
Now, I am a horny man. There is no denying it, and yes, I jacked off to the memory of her tits and ass—but I’ve lived long enough to realize that a disaster was in the making. Sure enough, two days later I retrieved a heated message from my voice mail: Stella asked me if I had made a pass at her sister!?! Not her daughter, but her sister! Imagine my confusion. Things didn’t only go downhill from there—it was an avalanche.
However, not all was lost during the holidays. I coupled, romped and rutted with Crazy Mary a couple times. I fucked the bartender Mandy once—well, several times throughout a wild Sunday afternoon of boozing, bucking and fucking, sucking and licking where we were joined for a while by a neighbor of hers. The neighbor was a bit small breasted for my taste, but she had an ass “to die for,” an ass to “rob a bank for,” hell, an ass to “lie, cheat and steal for!
I suppose that afternoon could have qualified as the “Best Fuck for the Month of December.” But, frankly, I don’t remember much of it!
Thus, I entered the year 2014 minus a bed buddy. And, Helen’s husband was once again going through a jealous, suspicious phase. In addition, I was very busy with work during the months of January and February.
Funny how life sometimes just happens. That is to say, our life’s journey is made more interesting by surprises, moments of serendipity, the unexpected and unexplained. Indulge me.
The weather in Houston this time of year, March, is mercurial to say the least. One day, the high temperature is in the upper thirties, the next in the upper sixties. It was one of those overcast afternoons and I was sitting in a favorite Irish pub—downtown. I had finished up two meetings that morning and a luncheon with some associates, stopping in at the bar for some warmth and shelter from the gray sky and steady drizzle. Oh, and for a pint or two.
I was in a suit, my London Fog d****d over the back of my bar stool. My tablet open, me texting, e-mailing.
The bartender, whom we know as Rugby Ron, a red faced, red haired expat from Dublin, was at the far end of the bar on my left, talking on his cell phone. To my right, a young couple sat at the opposite end of the bar. Behind me, three business men, neck-tied, were sitting around a table, chatting amiably, drinking beer—apparently not worried about returning to the office any time soon.
Suddenly, the young man from the couple was standing beside me, leaning in close and glaring, “What the fuck is your problem old man?”
Shocked, I leaned away from him. He was clad in a black t-shirt, black leather jacket, baseball cap on backwards, short but muscular, a bundle of wired energy. The young woman was immediately behind him, “Donnie, don’t be an asshole. Leave him alone.”
To his credit, Rugby Ron was on the scene, “Donnie, step it down, mate. Dean’s been working and believe me, with who he knows, you don’t want to fuck with him.”
It took half an hour before Ron was able to negotiate this guy Donnie to close out. As the couple were leaving he did that silly gesture of pointing at his eyes with two fingers and then aiming them at me as if to say, “I’m watching you.”
I had asked Rugby Ron what that was all about.
Ron had answered, “Well, you saw the hot little piece he was with. He gets crazy jealous. And honestly Dean, she did keep looking at you, over his shoulder. She’s a little tripper. I hate it when they come in on a weekend night—she likes to stir things up. We’re all on tenterhooks the entire time they are here—waiting for pint glasses to start flying.”
I have to say honestly, I never really got a good look at the young woman. Only a glimpse or two. Pretty, short, possibly Hispanic is all I could say about her.
I put the incident out of mind, sort of, until the following Thursday, when the weather turned warmer, with a blinding blue sky. Great bicycling weather. That morning I loaded my bike onto my Land Rover and went to my office which is southeast of downtown, in what we call the Medical Center area.
Around noon, I rode my bicycle to a neat little icehouse in the Montrose section of Houston, where I like to watch the bartender Sally’s alabaster boobies jiggle and bobble about in her trademark tight, scoop necked t-shirt. She’s always good for shaking them around for us regulars.
It is a typical Texas icehouse in many ways, garage doors that are opened up in nice weather. But it caters to a younger set, college students, and yuppies. However, there are a handful of guys my age who drop in on a semi-regular basis and we tend to take over and control a particular table. The staff has dubbed us The Board of Directors.
I was into my second pint when she suddenly appeared at my side—this little hellcat who introduced herself as Maritza. She actually gave me a hug. The other guys at the table, Tucker, Hartman, Ross, a couple other guys, grew quiet, attentive to her pretty round face, wild waves and curls and chaos of black hair and abundant breasts buoyed up in a tight pink cotton top.
Maritza apologized for Donnie’s behavior the previous week and when I asked where prince charming was, she said he was at work.
She went up to the bar, and then returned to a pack of younger people who had commandeered a picnic table. The boys were loud, lots of testosterone. The girls laughed and giggled.
Sally brought our table a fresh round of beers and told me that Maritza had bought mine. Then, Sally said, “Look Dean sweetie, stay away from her. She is like a tornado honey. When she drops in, you can’t take your eyes off her—but before you know it, you are laying in the midst of wreckage. She is trouble.”
Needless to say, my table mates got a fine chuckle.
Not two minutes later, Maritza came back to the bar—without looking my way. Her ass looked fine in tight jean shorts, tanned thunder thighs. I had the brief thought that Dickhead Donnie was one lucky fucker, one lucky fucker indeed—but that keeping all that to himself was no doubt a tough task.
As I was leaving, Maritza called out to me, “Bye Dean!” The pack around her quieted for a moment and looked my way as I unchained my bike. I waved and said, “Be careful little girl.”
On Tuesday morning the following week, as I was at work sitting at my desk, my cellphone rang. It was Tucker, one of the guys who had sat around the table with me at the icehouse that day when Maritza had been present. Tucker, a fellow member of the Board of Directors, said he and a couple other “directors” were having beers the previous Saturday at the icehouse when “that little Latina spitfire came in.” Maritza apparently had caused quite a stir among the young bucks who proceeded to buy her shots
Tucker went on to explain, “I’ve heard that she has burned her way through a number of bars, her and that Yeti boyfriend of hers getting banned and having to move on to wreak havoc someplace else.. But after pounding Red Bulls and vodka for an hour or so she noticed me.” Tucker told me that she had recognized him and asked, “Is Dean coming here today? He needs to call me.”
“Now,” Tucker continued, “Ross and Charlie and me, being such good buddies of yours offered to step up in your absence, but she wrote down her number for you.”
Tucker recited her number and right before we ended the connection said, “Be careful old son. Between her and Donnie Destructo, I see guns of various calibers, and cans of gasoline and sharp blades and flying rocks in your future.”
I had to laugh. Tucker, our resident poet.
To my credit, I didn’t call her until Thursday. And when I did, it went straight to voice mail. I took a gamble and decided to go for it, “This is Dean. You now have my number.”
I found myself anxious, realized that I really did want to get naked with and fuck that “little spitfire.” She finally called late Friday morning, and I had to resist the temptation to jump on the call. When she called the second time—I had answered.
So yes, that Saturday morning, Maritza was working that ass of hers up and down, her young snug pussy jacking my dick. She had her hands pressed into the bed on either side of my head, her big beauties pressing against me, her gorgeous ass cheeks in my hands. Then the damned phone had rang.
Of course recognizing the ringtone, Maritza had hissed, “Shit, that’s Donnie.”
“Don’t stop fucking, baby.”
“I have to answer or he’ll get suspicious.”
“I thought he was going offshore this morning.” It seems Donnie works for a company that
consults for offshore drilling operations and about once a month has to spend a couple days on platforms out in the Gulf of Mexico.
“He is baby, don’t worry.” Maritza had leaned over to retrieve her phone—with my cock still up inside her. Maritza had sat up, still impaled on my dick and, after putting a finger to her lips as if I needed a fucking warning to be quiet, she answered the fucking phone.
“Hey Sweetie, you missing me already?”
As she talked, every few moments, Maritza would move her hips around and I would move up and down inside her pussy. Trust me, when I say that the entire time she was talking with her asshole boyfriend, I had my hands all over that delightful little fuck. I was grabbing and patting and kneading her ass cheeks. I fondled and felt her titties, making them wobble around, rising up a few times to kiss them, suck on them.
I gathered that originally the company Donnie works for was going to ship him and his fellow workers to an offshore oil rig. But a change in plans had been made and they were about to board a helicopter.
As she was riding me, Maritza carried on a crazy conversation, “Oh baby, you gave me such a good fucking this morning. I’m going to be thinking about that cock of yours all day. You know that tonight I am going to be working my clit to the memory of your dick in my pussy.”
Then, Maritza had closed her eyes, bit her lower lip and moved up and down on my dick several times. I admit to taking pure prurient delight in having my cock stuck up inside the pussy of Donnie’s girlfriend. She felt wonderful, she looked wonderful.
“No, I’m all dressed, going to the grocery store, then the farmer’s market.” There had been a pause and Maritza had rolled her eyes, even as she rolled her hips, “Okay, I’ll send it right now. Bye honey, be careful. Love ya.”
Then, while raking her clit over me, back and forth, Maritza had tapped away at her cellphone—her version of multi-tasking. “What the hell are you doing, little girl?” For the record, it still felt so damned good being up in her pussy. Hell, she could have been eating spaghetti with meat sauce for all I cared. I was fucking!
“Donnie is such an asshole. He always does this, telling me to send a photo of myself. He says it’s because he misses me, but I know it’s because he wants to know what I’m up to, keeping track of me. Asshole. How’s this?”
She had turned her phone so I could see a photo of Maritza attired in a billowing, yellow blouse and loose fitting jeans, a saddle bag sized purse dangling from her shoulder—reflected in a bathroom mirror. Even though I was fucking up in her pussy, and I had an ass cheek in one hand and a tit in the other, I had given Maritza a quizzical look.
She had explained that when Donnie was offshore, or even out drinking with his buddies, golfing or otherwise fucking off, he would call and insist on a photo or video of her. So, Maritza had stored up photos and videos of herself.
“I take photos and videos on my phone of myself in different clothes. I take shots of my pussy, my tits and ass. In my bra and panties. In the fucking bathtub. I just have to make sure I delete whatever photo or video I send him so I don’t fuck up and send the same one twice”
She had then leaned forward, hands again at either side of my head—those tits, oh those fucking tits again had pressed against my chest and I had raised my head kissed them, “Yeah, Donnie thinks I’m on my way to the grocery store.” Her breath became raspy, “But I’m on my way to another climax, riding this fine dick of yours. Hold that load, daddy.”
Now, in my mind, to me, among the most wonderful sounds in nature is that of a woman achieving climax. Stella would gasp, her face would pinch tight, eyes squinting, and then at that critical moment she would emit a loud “Oh!” or, “Oh shit!” Or, “Oh fuck!” And she would whimper through to the end.
My married bed buddy Helen also gasps, holds her breath throughout and then at the end of her climax, Helen pants. Other women I get to fuck are squealers—like Crazy Mary.
Maritza was—is—more varied but this time she began with a low keen and it built and deepened into a growl as she rode me hard and then the little fuck bitch went wild and bore down, grinding her pubic bone hard against me—it hurt like hell but Maritza was a vision of sexual self-absorption. She came and came and came. I think Maritza was fully, intensely aroused by having another man’s cock up in her pussy while she was talking to Donnie.
Maritza had fallen forward and laid out on me, catching her breath, “Fuck that was a good one, Dean.” I had rubbed over her ass, loving the feel of those magnificent breasts pressed between us. And then, I had gently rolled her over. My cock had slipped out of her pussy. I had loomed over her for a time, jiggling her jugs, kissing those titties, sucking on those nipples, gazing over that lush, little, overly endowed body.
Maritza had stared at my dick, then reached for it, softly gripping me, “Fuck me with it, big daddy. Do me.”
As I had taken my cock and pressed against her pussy lips I told her, “You are such a beautiful little fuck, aren’t you?”
Maritza had gasped as I had entered her, slipped inside that pussy, and then said, “Oh Dean, I love how you’ve been getting hard for me all morning.”
Now, as any heterosexual man knows, having one’s cock up inside a woman’s pussy is one of life’s true delights. And, I knew the young woman beneath me was an avid fucker; she slept around with abandon, but her pussy did indeed feel tight, warm and wet and oh so welcoming.
I had laid out on top of her, “Damn little girl, that pussy is so wet.”
Maritza had chuckled, “Honey, that’s your fault. Do we need to do something about that, daddy?”
I had replied, eyes clinching, body tensing with the pure joy of having my cock in a very young pussy, “No baby, it feels so good. You are such a sweet little fuck.”
Maritza had bucked up against me a few times, “Fuck me, Dean. Get after it big daddy. Fuck my little pussy.”
I had picked up the pace, laid out flat onto her lush body, savoring all that tactile pleasure, loving her hands moving over my back and ass, “Oh little girl, this is my pussy today—mine to fuck. You’re my little fuck whore today.”
“Oh yes daddy, fuck your little slut, baby. Fuck my little pussy like you own it!”
This had set me off and I was determined to show her what a pussy pumping, piston fucking fool I could be—I pummeled that little bitch. And throughout my fucking, Maritza was grunting, huffing and cursing, “Shit, fuck! Oh shit, get it! Get it! Oh yes, nail it, nail my fucking ass down!” She kept gripping my ass, and urging me on.
With this third go at Maritza I had alternated between lying flat out on top of her rich body and then resting on extended arms where I could watch her pretty face, her pretty titties lolling around, and my cock slicking in and out of her pretty pussy.
When I climaxed, I did so with a growl. I thrashed around, I hammered down on Maritza’s sweet body.
When I was fully spent, I had spaced out on top of her. We had laid there for a time, catching our breath, cooling off. Maritza had patted my ass and gasped out—little potty mouth that she is, “Shit, fuck! Son of bitch, Dean. You sure can shoot some loads, baby. Fuck, you can pump some cum. Damn big daddy.”
I had stayed inside her for a while, still fucking that pussy. But I did eventually roll off of Maritza. We had cuddled for time—post coital bliss. At that time, I had concluded the only time when Maritza could be considered sweet was when she had just been licked or fucked to a climax. By her admission, Donnie and she had fucked in the morning, and, with me, in addition to licking her to completion at the beginning of our first go at it I had done her three times. The little bunny liked to fuck.
She felt so soft and warm and lush up against me, resting in the crook of my right arm where I could reach down and pat her ass. With my other hand I had fondled that right tit. Maritza had gossiped about some of the regulars and staff at two or three of the bars we both frequented. I lazed and listened—enjoying the feel of her. I remember looking out the open French doors that emptied onto my third story balcony, seeing the bright blues sky, the soft breeze ruffling treetops. I recall feeling awash with that satisfied sense of wellbeing that comes with being both well fucked and the awareness that I am going to get to fuck some more.
It was about 11:30 in the morning and this little slut and her wonderfully apportioned body had already gotten three cum blasts from me. She had gently taken my cock in hand and commenced to stroke me softly, delicately. Amazingly, I had felt myself growing hard again. I had gently rolled her onto her back, mounted her and pressed against those tight pussy lips.
Her surprise was, I believe, very sincere, “Oh fuck, Dean. You’re hard again, already? Damn, you are one horny man.”
“It’s this sweet little body of yours, little girl. These tits, ass, all of it. Damn, you’re a fine little fuck.”
I had pushed into Maritza’s pussy and proceeded to slowly, languidly fuck her. I had decided to make this go at her last. To wit, Maritza had sighed throughout, “Oh yes, Dean, I like that, I like that a lot.”
Now, a word about my townhome. Yes, indulge me a moment. After my divorce, it took me two years to recover financially. A few years ago, I sold a nice piece of property on Galveston Island. I joined with four other guys and invested half the proceeds in a ten unit townhome development in mid-town Houston. Instead of taking out profit, my cut on the deal was title to the anchor unit.
The ground floor is, of course, the garage, half of which I have turned into a workshop for my bicycles, storage for my kayak, and so forth.
The second level is comprised of a large living room, a sizeable kitchen well-appointed with restaurant grade appliances. There is a half bath and a den that I have fashioned into a proverbial man-cave: full bar, two big screens, sound system. This level looks out onto a sizable deck where I have a hot tub. The back side of the townhomes overlook a heavily foliaged city park. Plus, along the back there are a row of trees. The point is, I can take women out onto the deck, get them naked and romp and rut on the deck, play in the hot tub.
The third story has two bedrooms—one of which I have turned into a study/office. There are two full baths. There is an open, loft area where I also have set up as a small den. The master bedroom has been fashioned into a playroom, a fuck room--to be frank. A wet bar, liquor cabinet, mini-frig. And, then there are the mirrors. My sliding door closet, on the right hand side as you are facing the headboard, is mirrored. On the left, I have positioned a tri-paneled mirror and a double paneled one at the foot of the bed. These feed both my exhibitionist and voyeuristic tendencies.
And there we were, me laid out on top of Maritza, slowly, steadily pumping pussy—both of us, watching ourselves in the mirrors, fucking.
“Oh Dean, we’re making some good sex today, baby.”
Maritza had raised her left hip to accommodate me as I reached under to grab some ass, “Damn little girl, you put out good.”
At that point, I was uncertain if I could achieve climax so soon after I had just shot a load of spunk—but my dick was sure as hell hard. And it felt so damned good just fucking away the day, literally.
After a few minutes, I had pulled out and Maritza said, while staring at my dick, “Oh baby, where are you going with that cock?”
I had told her, while jacking on my dick, leering at that body, those titties, that pussy, that adorable looking face, “Roll over baby, stick that big, beautiful bitch ass up in the air for me. I want to get after that pussy from behind.”
Right now, dear reader, let me assure you that as I describe this moment, I am rock hard to the memory of Maritza rolling over, those big fucking titties lolling about, her raising up on her knees, offering up that ass for my viewing, and presenting that pussy once more for me to fuck. Well, excuse me while I take a little jack off break.
I stayed back there for quite a while—pumping that pussy, banging that butt, ramming that rump. I had alternated between being on my knees, humping her, and then easing the little fuck onto her stomach so I could lay out on her and enjoy the feel of her ass cheeks beneath me. At one point, while I was thusly laid out on top of her I had whispered, gasped, “You feel that cock up in that pussy, little girl?”
Maritza, sweetly, had said, “Shit, fuck! Feels like a fucking fist stuffed in there. Damn, big daddy, you sure know how to fuck a pussy—fuck! Damn, you sure can get after it!”
As I’ve said, I spent a lot of time back there, humping and pumping. Yes, I had a great time doing her doggie style. Still unsure whether I could achieve a climax. And I did indeed, “get after it,” made those ass cheeks quiver and quake, made that sweet little bitch moan and groan and curse. I was a flat out pussy pumping fool.
A sheen a sweet had formed over my forehead and I had begun to huff and gasp. I suddenly had become desperate to shoot off a load. I had pulled out, backed off the bed, and while jacking on my dick to the sight of her, I had ordered “Move over here, little girl. Get back on your hands and knees. Get that ass up here for me. Where is that little pussy? I need to finish off this round.”
I had continued to fuck her and it did take a while for me to climax, it was Maritza’s dirty talk that got me worked up, “Oh Dean, big daddy, we look good fucking, just look how you make my titties swing. Oh you’re my pussy fucker today, baby. Oh you know how to get it done, big daddy.”
I had resumed my hard driving pussy pumping. Her grunts and yelps just urged me on to rabid rump ramming. Right before I did indeed achieve a climax I had growled out, “Oh you get me so sexed up, you little bitch—damn, you are one fine fuck! Take my load you little whore! Take it!”
“Oh yes, give it to me big daddy! Show me again what a man you are! Pump it!”
Yes, at that moment of exquisite release, I was proud of my cock, proud of my fucking, proud of my loads.
“You’re my little whore to fuck today—my little fuck bitch! Mine!”
“Oh yes,” Maritza had yelped out, “Oh yes, yours to fuck, big daddy—all day!”
Well, that had tipped me over the edge into a climax.
When I had finished shooting off inside her, Maritza had fallen forward, laughing, “Shit!”
Half an hour, after we had cleaned ourselves, Maritza had poured a healthy gin and tonic, I had grabbed a beer and we were sitting in my hot tub. I was feeling so fucking fine. It was sometime around noon and the neighborhood had been fully alive with Saturday morning busy-ness. A lawnmower ground over thick grass somewhere. A dog barked. A car door slammed shut. A truck a few blocks over had grumbled. And there I was, in my hot tub naked with a big tittied, broad bottomed, healthy hipped woman three years younger than my daughter sitting within arm’s reach—with her titties bobbing about in the churning water. Yes, I was feeling fine, so fucking fine.
Our deal was this: Maritza had agreed to be my “lay around” girl until about six in the evening. In return for financial consideration. When I had called the little fuck the day before, Maritza had led me on, telling she thought I was hot and sexy and she wondered what it might be like hook up with me and party. But, of course, there was a catch.
As a control factor, Donnie does not want Maritza working fulltime. She works part time in her father’s trucking company. So, Maritza claimed she never had enough money and had to rely on Donnie for car payments, funds for sundries and food. I am convinced that Maritza is simply playing Donnie. She, frankly, fucks for money. The job at the trucking company is in reality a cover. Her real money is made by doing guys like me.
However, the sex for money element notwithstanding, Maritza liked to buck and fuck. And, she seemed to appreciate my sexual stamina. We played in the hot tub and on the patio for a good hour or so. Now, I didn’t climax at any point during that time—but I still played. Yes, I fucked like a champ.
We fell into a great rhythm. I would lick Maritza’s pussy—making her moan—until she was wet. Then, she would suck, lick, kiss and stroke my dick, and titty fuck me, until I was ready for more rutting. Yes, all during that fuck frenzied hour or so, I spent a lot of time in that woman’s pussy.
I also spent a lot of time with my dick in her lip rich mouth. That little whore could—can—sure suck cock. Maritza would position me on the edge of the hot tub, or on a patio chair and get to work on getting me hard. Head bobbing up and down, lips gripping my shaft, fingers flicking my balls, licking me, kissing my dick—then, once the little bitch had me all worked up, “Oh Dean, shit, your hard. Fuck me with me it again.”
Also, throughout, I roamed my hands, mouth and cock all over that little bitch’s body. Took my dick and tapped and spanked that ass of hers. I tapped Maritza’s titties, I fucked her titties. We had used them to hug my cock, to jack me up.
I had her ride me cowgirl, reverse cowgirl. We used my loungers where I banged her doggie style—ramming Maritza’s rump good and hard. I spaced out on top of her for some missionary style humping, alternating between pussy pumping and then straddling her at the waist so I could enjoy those big boobs.
Now, to my credit—it wasn’t all about me. I spent some quality time down between her legs, licking and kissing and tongue fucking her pussy, making her groan and moan and sigh and gasp.
Although the privacy wall between my unit and my only neighbor does a good job of muffling sound, I was afraid that the widow Mrs. Stampner would be able to hear Maritza and me in the throes of our whooping, vulgarity laced, gasping and grunting sex.
“Fuck that pussy! Dammit, give me that fucking cock!”
`
“You’re my little whore today! You’re my fucking piece of ass today!”
“Oh shit! Oh big daddy, you know how to use that fuck tool of yours—shit!”
“Look at those fucking titties hop and flop! Damn, those titties get me going.”
And, so on…we were two randy, romping, rutting people getting it on in the heat of the day—simply fucking with abandon. My heart had been racing, we both had a sheen of sweat over our bodies. Little curls and commas of hair had become matted to Maritza’s face. We were gasping, panting.
Then, as I was once more looking down on her ass, watching my cock slick in and out of Maritza’s fine feeling, cock gripping pussy, as I was leaning over and watching her hanger banger titties dangling down and swinging around, I had the prurient thought, “Yeah, Donnie, don’t you worry about your little girlfriend’s fuck needs today, you asshole. I’m getting it done.”
I began to feel it build, “Oh fuck, little girl—I need to cum. I want to pump it out onto those titties again!”
Maritza had sat up, positioned herself on the edge of the lounger, “Oh yes, big daddy—you been doing me good, baby. Get your reward.”
Now dear reader, let me tell you how damned good it felt—fucking this little whore, this lush bodied little vixen in broad daylight, getting my pleasure with another man’s woman—he being a true asshole—was so exquisitely delightful. And those titties, oh those fucking titties—too big for Maritza’s hands—looked so fucking good. She jiggled them for me. She bobbed them about for me. She made them wobble around for me.
They looked beautiful—all slicked up with sunscreen. As Maritza had explained, “Can’t lose my tan lines—Donnie would go nuclear.”
I had stood there, slacked jawed and stupid with lust, jacking like a madman to the sight of those big beauties all bunched up for my viewing pleasure. And, the cum blast that ensued at the end of that session of marathon fucking was impressive—if I do say so myself. A few thick threads of milk white jism thrust out across the twin bows of her bosom. Then, I had spackled them with my spunk, gasping with each throb of pleasure.
“Damn, fuck! Big daddy, look at you go! Son of a fucking bitch, you get so loaded up baby.”
I had stood there, still jacking, “Fuck, that is one beautiful pair of cum catchers.”
Finally, spent I took a towel to my dick and balls. Maritza had gone inside, presumably to clean up. However, when she walked back out on my deck, the sweet little fuck had a beer in one hand and a fresh gin and tonic in the other. And, my jism was still spread and slicked all over her giant jiggling jugs.
“Damn Dean, good thing my boobs are big—look at all that man mess. Shit, we did good. That was some good fucking baby.”
For my part, I was exhausted. But, yes, proud of my dick, proud of my fucking and proud of my loads.
Maritza had sat down in a patio chair, a few feet from me, in all her naked splendor, finally taking a towel to her cum glazed boobs. “Baby, if we’re going to keep fucking like this, big daddy, you’re going to have feed me.”
Pizza Primo is in a small boutique shopping center a mile or so from my townhome. I picked up my cell phone and ordered up a margarita pie, Chicago style, and a New York style peperoni and jalapeno. I asked Rashid to have the driver call me when he turned into my neighborhood.
Then, I had sat down, beer bottle in one hand, my cock in the other. Yes, as the erstwhile reader has already ascertained, I liked getting my hands on that body of hers, greedily groping and grapping that rich ass of hers, smacking those cheeks, fondling and feeling those dense, drooping titties, making them bounce and bobble about. Yes, I liked moving my mouth over that rich body, loved biting that ass, sucking on those titties, kissing Maritza’s thighs and licking that pussy. I liked taking my cock and roaming over that body, taking my dick and spanking that ass, tapping those titties. I liked cuming in her and on her—pumping it into her pussy, spewing my spunk on that ass, spackling those titties.
But I also really, really liked looking at—hell, leering at, and jacking off to that ass, those titties and that shaved pussy. Maritza is a delightful looking pornographic vision.
For her part, Maritza sat there, wearing nothing but a pair of sunglasses. She watched my hand on dick action and then had put one of her legs over the arm of the chair, offering up a lewd spread. Maritza had sipped her gin and tonic, while watching me jerk off to her, she had casually begun to rub her clit. Maritza talked, prattled on about a few people I knew, several I knew vaguely and many I did not know at all.
Here is some of Maritza’s stream of consciousness meanderings.
“I like rainy days—rainy Saturdays or Sundays. Donnie gets after me four or five times—but he boozes it up too much usually and isn’t any use to me at night.
“Once, last summer I did four guys in one day. Did Donnie in the morning. When he went to work, I went to an apartment a few doors down and fucked a married guy for a couple hours. Then, in the early afternoon I did a guy in his car, in the parking lot of the Place 2B bar. Then, I got fucked by another guy in my apartment complex. I think I must have climaxed at least a dozen times that day.
Our food arrived, the driver indeed calling me as he pulled into my neighborhood. I had put on my boxers and gone to retrieve the pizzas. And, Maritza picked up her talking, chewing crazily on the pizza and, having switched to beer, guzzling, “I like being in a room with other bitches and having all the men looking at me, getting hard to me. I fucking love knowing they will go home later and jack off to me, or fuck their women while thinking about my tits and ass.
“By the way Dean, you’re a pretty impressive pussy fucker. I am not blowing smoke up your ass, big daddy. I mean it. You pack heavy. Seriously, you pump the loads, dude. And you recharge so fucking fast. And you lick pussy so fucking good—you’re magic down there. Your women must save a lot of money on batteries is all I can say.”
She proceeded to ask me about my lovers, my fuck buddies. Without mentioning names, I told her about my married bed pal Helen, the bartender Mandy, Crazy Mary and a married neighbor named Monica I have recently started fucking on a regular basis.
Maritza had asked if I fucked them as hard as I had fucked her. I had told her that I do like getting after it—even my ex-wife still comes around about once a month for some afternoon delight, cheating on her boyfriend in the process. That had emitted a lusty laugh from Maritza.
After eating, we got busy again. All fucking afternoon.
We spent most of the time in my upstairs bedroom, rolling around in bed, banging it out, bucking and fucking. I was determined to get in as much fucking as I could manage. To get me worked up and ready, Maritza gave nice full body tit rubs, front and back. Sucked on me, licked my balls.
For my part, I licked that little pussy over and over—got her worked up. I wanted her to remember me.
One of the more memorable rounds of our rutting occurred about halfway through the afternoon. We had dozed off, Maritza a snuggled up against me, my right around her. It had felt so fucking fine with her titties pressed between us, her arm and leg over me. I had awakened and immediately felt my cock stirring.
I had begun to stroke Maritza’s back and ass—this got my cock truly riled. I had then gently pulled Maritza onto her back, I had kissed her titties, gently sucked on her right nipple, then the left one—causing her to gasp and sigh. I slowly made my way down to her torso, toward her wonderland, where I once more spent a lot of time—a lot of time—kissing that pussy, her thighs, using my tongue and lips to make soft, gently love to that pussy.
Maritza at one point had lifted me up face her—her pussy was glistening. “Are you hard? Oh fuck! Of course you are hard. Oh, big daddy, fuck me with it. Oh, don’t make me beg! Fuck me!”
I had then mounted her and slipped inside. I had taken my time. I had fucked her and I fucked and I fucked and I had fucked her some more. She felt so good beneath me, her hands moving softly over my back and ass, her sighing softly, sweetly nibbling on my shoulders and earlobes. I have no idea how long we went at it for that round, but it was so nice. For the longest time we barely spoke.
Twice, Maritza asked me to do her doggie style. Each time, I had pulled out and rolled her over—but still maintained my steady, slow pace. I had roamed my hands all over every inch of her delightfully endowed body. Whenever I would reach around and jiggle, fondle her titties, Maritza would gasp out, “Oh fuck yeah, I love that shit. Get yourself some titty.”
Twice, Maritza had mounted me and rode me—the second time she climaxed, whimpering, moaning, then falling onto me. I had rolled her over and resumed my fucking. Finally, I began to slightly pick up my pace. She had urged me on, “Oh yes, oh big daddy, I feel it building. You’re such a man, such a strong pussy fucker.”
“I can’t hold it much longer. Gotta cum. Oh I need to shoot off.”
“Oh daddy, you hold it better than anybody—you’re the champ. Oh, you’re the champ. Don’t hold back. You’ve been doing me so fucking good today.”
In addition to having an incredible, dick hardening body, Maritza knew—knows—how to talk a man through to completion, “Oh yes, daddy, you’ve been fucking your woman good—you’re a man, a man, now get that reward. Yes, get what’s yours, own it. Get that pleasure, it all belongs to you.”
I had climaxed and went fucking cum creaming crazy. It was a good one—a damn fine climax. It was one of those body racking, mind blower climaxes. I felt like the king of pussy fuckers. Maritza had grunted and cursed, “Oh shit, fuck” throughout my pummeling.
Spent, I had rolled off her—and laid there in a post-coital daze.
Maritza had rolled against me, began rubbing her hands over my chest. I had put my arm around her and thought, “She is such a little bitch when she has her clothes on, but a sex goddess when she is sucking, bucking and fucking.”
Then, Maritza had said, “Damn, Dean, when you cum, you cum so hard—every time.”
“Are you okay?”
Maritza had rolled out of bed, “Honey, you and I were made for this kind of fucking.” She had spent a few minutes in the bathroom, then come out with a damp rag and towel and sweetly cleaned me off.
We fucked once more, out on the deck beside the hot tub. And, while in the shower, Maritza had jacked me off to completion. Then, she was gone. Maritza had to meet up with three girlfriends for drinks, “They’re friends, but they are also bitches. If I don’t show up, Donnie will find out.”
I had sat on my deck, sipping bourbon, resting, recharging—reviewing the day. It had one hell of a run of fucking. I remember thinking of Sarah’s warning, “She is like a tornado…” Well, my place did look like a storm had blown through: cups and towels, paper plates strewn everywhere. Bed sheet cascading over the side of my bed; chairs out of place.
As a postscript: I didn’t get with her in April. I learned that Donnie had beaten the hell out of a guy who Donnie saw patting Maritza’s ass. I guess I was a little gun shy, literally. However, in May, I needed some more of that crazy pussy action. I had bumped into her at the same icehouse, a little surprised her and Donnie were yet to be banned from said establishment. I slipped Maritza some money—per our arrangement, sort of putting that pussy of hers on retainer. I had enjoyed another full day of humping and pumping, bucking and fucking, rump ramming and rutting.
In June, well, that turned out to be a banner month for me. And, I didn’t really have time for Maritza. Stella and I resumed our fuck buddy relationship—I am now happy to report, the sex is as exuberant and satisfying as ever. And, I was able to spend a crazy weekend in Jamaica Beach with Mandy the bartender. She invited another busty friend to join us on Saturday who didn’t leave until the following Sunday afternoon—you guessed it, that will be my best fuck in the month of June—to be posted soon,
My married friend Helen and I played house at her place for a couple days—her husband John was out of town at a conference. I fucked Crazy Mary a few times—we went to a party on Lake Conroe and during that day, we twice slipped into a hallway bathroom to fuck. We ended up spending the night, and yes, banged it out a number of times.
Plus, I have a new sexual prospect—a neighbor’s wife.
Maritza texted me a few times, in June. But, I demurred. However, our plans are to get together later this week. I have reserved a room at a boutique hotel downtown, just for a change of venue. I realize this is a dangerous piece of business, and maybe that is part of the appeal. But, Maritza truly is a world class little fuck—and that body of hers is absolutely incredible.
I still hear stories from time to time about Donnie and her, craziness in bars, shouting matches, stomping and the occasional tossed pint glass. But as I sit, I am rock hard and jacking on my dick in anticipation of getting naked with Maritza and enjoying her sexual charms.
Just call me incorrigible.
Maris
- 10.06.2021
- 12
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