Journey Of A Pain Slut - Act 6 The Final Act free porn video

“Did you see this dear?” My wife spoke as she looked up from the local newspaper she was reading and over the top frame of her glasses.

We had finished our evening meal, another one of my self-styled gourmet dishes … diced steak marinated in spices, cooked with mushroom and onions and served on a bed of Potatoes Dauphinoise. Tasty, even though I say it myself. And now we relaxed with a glass of wine each. A nice Cabernet for me and a chilled Sauvignon for my wife.

Perfect … or so I thought.

“Hmm, what was that honey?” I responded somewhat absentmindedly, my focus on the TV and the football that was showing.

“There’s been blood found in the old Bridewell Cells underneath Leeds Town Hall.”

I almost spit out my wine!

“Are you okay dear?”

I nodded and coughed and swallowed all at the same time, and ended up dribbling wine down my shirt.

“I’m fine honey, just swallowed that last mouthful wrongly is all. Sorry what were you saying?”

I had played for time so that I could compose myself. Her words were in no way accusatory, she was just relaying the story …

“You know the old prison cells under the Town Hall in Leeds?” My wife continued.

You mean the ones with a narrow corridor, dark and ominous with an interrogation cell, containing a rack, a wooden-pony and a torture chair that can be used to cause extreme pain, not to mention near-death experiences, especially to nubile teenage female students?

“Hmmm, not really dear, can’t say that I was aware of them.”

Bear face lie, but convincing … or so I hoped.

“Well, it says here that fresh blood was discovered during a public tour of the cells and that the authorities have so far failed to explain it. DNA sampling of the stains have proved inconclusive as they matched no one on the national database, but experts have confirmed that it is from the past few weeks.”

Fuck … DNA sampling? What is that all about? Did they think a crime had been committed down there? I hoped my contact continued to play a straight bat, after all he had plenty to lose as well.

“Maybe it was just from a tour party, maybe someone cut themselves on something … the rack has lots of old iron and it would be …”

“There is a rack, a torture rack like the inquisition. Really dear, in Leeds? And you know that, how?”

Shit! Fuck! Keep calm.

“I don’t know it, I’m just guessing that all those sorts of places have torture devices don’t they?”

Was I really having a conversation with my wife about the torture implements at Bridewell jail?

“They say that the blood was found around the cells as if it had been the result of some sort of deep cut, or several cuts, and it was female from more than one girl.”

Fucking hell!

“And they don’t know who these girls were?” I hoped my voice had remained on a calm level.

“It says not … but the matter has now been referred formally to the police it says.”

“Really dear, I would have thought they would have had better things to do with their valuable time …”

What the fuck! I hoped that was the case.

Should I message my Little Girl?

It had been over a month since I last saw them, a pause in our lives together to let them recover, and let their delicious bodies heal.

We had shared the occasional message, once the slut almost sexted me … not with pictures but with words only, asking me to describe how I would torture her if I was burning her to death … she really was one fucked-up, beautiful little slut.

I regularly masturbated to recollections of our sessions, and sometimes to the very few pictures that I had taken. I only took a small number of photo’s … I wasn’t about to create a collection of incriminating evidence either on my phone or anywhere else. But it didn’t matter, the memories were more than enough for my purpose.

My wife went back to her reading and, outwardly at least, I focused back on the soccer. However my mind was whirring like a machine in overdrive, with a mix of thought processes that covered the euphoria of being with the girls, the graveness of our/my actions that had just been made more real through the last conversation I had with my wife, and the excitement at the thought of seeing them again.

I imagined them together, over at my Little Girl’s place. Red was too involved to leave us now, and she was gorgeous for sure, but my Little Girl was the original, my slut, my girl … the love of my life. Would I leave my wife for her? Damn it, yes … I really believed that in my late-middle-age-crisis state of mind, I would, in an instant … but that wasn’t how this thing worked.

I wanted to plan our next meeting. What would I do to them? Where would it be? How would I cover our tracks?

Then it was half-time at the soccer. Leeds United versus Huddersfield Town. The two clubs that were based either side of where we lived. I preferred Leeds … but the outcome of the game was not what was taking my attention.

The TV was showing an advert for Summer holidays. It was late March. Spring had well and truly sprung, and so of course they were advertising holiday vacations.

On the screen was a plethora of young, fit girls in bikini’s … on the beach … in the pool … at the sea-side bars … in the spas …

“San Agustin, the jewel of Gran Canaria. A Seaside and Port town filled with fun and laughter … it is the ultimate in relaxation …”

In my imagination, Red and my Little Girl were there, on the screen. Wearing their skimpy swimwear, their healed scars evident only to those who knew to look. By day they were relaxed … enjoying the sun, sea, sand, bars and spas … but when my mind’s eye moved to the dark of night, their Tropical Nightmare’s came to life …

Lovers by day … Pain sluts by night!

This was it. I wanted to go away with them to somewhere warm and out of the country while this whole ‘blood-find’ episode at Bridewell cells blew over …

Could I possibly get away with it?

Part 2 – The Girl

Time passed. Time passes.

My hurts became less. My body slowly healed. My arms, so painful that weekend in Leeds, would stretch up and over my back again. Only my mind stayed the same. Longing for what it was missing. Longing to be with my Abi, naked, tortured, cut, bleeding, crying, trembling.

I saw her. Of course I did. Sometimes at her place, sometimes up here. Sometimes an evening or a day or a weekend. We were careful. We lay together. I looked at her lovely naked body. Her nose, her shoulders, the softness of her ear, her arms, her incredible eyes, her delicate sweet breasts, her salty cunt.

Sometimes we tied each other, remembering how we had been tied. But we stopped short of hurting each other. We knew that was for him. It hurt us now not to be hurt by him. And so we waited.

Sometimes I would text him. Tell him about my dreams. About the deaths of lovely women. Tortured. Burnt. Crucified. Torn apart. And asked him to imagine that being me and him being my executioner. I felt good when I pressed send. I wondered what he felt when he read my little messages.

One night I dressed up.

Fishnets and a loose t-shirt and an old jacket. Went to the part of town where guys cruise slowly by. Waited for anyone. Waited for a window to be wound down and a question asked. Went inside. Leather. Clean. Mercedes clean. Buttons flicked undone. My mouth gorging on his manhood. Over onto my face, my flimsy skirt around my tits. Letting him force himself into my ass. Hard as he wanted. Knuckles on the misted glass.

I showered. I stroked my body. I smiled into the mirror. I waited...

Part 3 – The Guy

“Let me in?” I don’t smile. Sometimes my smiles don’t make people relax.

“I wouldn’t have let you up this far.” Her eyes are green, angry. Her nipples are hard. Lust is absurd. It strikes in the strangest places, and this woman, this whore … the whore I use, was feeling lust right now as she peeked through the small chain protected gap at me.

She doesn’t even realise she’s feeling it. She’s erected a barricade of propriety between us. I despise the type of woman she is. My body doesn’t concur.

“Your nipples are hard,” I murmur, allowing her the choice to hear it, or pretend she didn’t. She blinks, shakes her head.

“How did you get up here?”

Ah, the human ear has splendid filters. “I told them I was your brother.”

“Right. Because we look so much alike.” Her response makes me laugh.

The loose fit of her short-cropped shirt flutters with each breath. She’s trembling, trying to conceal it. I glance beyond her, at the tiny room. It’s an upmarket whore-home, a luxury let-by-the-hour space. It won’t take that long to get what I came for.

“You have till the count of three, then I leave. One … Two.” Money talks and I pay well.

“Oh, fine, come in,” she snaps.

I do smile then but permit it only because she has closed the door to unhook the chain and can’t see me. She opens it and steps back. I have found there to be little difference between the unlatching of a chain and the spreading of a woman’s legs. As if they can never unbar only a single entrance.

She pushes the door flat to the wall. She thinks it makes her safe. I enter. She kicks a rug and a lacy bra beneath the bed. I will see much more than that before I leave.

I like the way her body moves. If she glances down, she’ll see my coat is open and my jeans fail to conceal how hard I am. She never takes her gaze from my face.

I’m nearly past her, nearly in the room and at the bed, when I grab her and slam her hard back against my body. The back of her skull thuds into my chest. Her teeth crack together. She makes a wordless sound, a protest, and another more guttural sound that is not protest at all.

I band an arm beneath her breasts. I can smell when a woman wants to fuck. I smell it when I’m with my Little Girl. I smell it now.

She can’t admit what she wants. But her body knows. It’s what she does … what she is. Lust is a thing of the blood. Doesn’t need head or heart. Her flesh is soft and pink. Her blood is red hot.

“What are you doing?” The whore whines.

“Need a fucking manual?” I press hard against her ass.

“Just fuck off,” she whispers.

“You want me to leave? Your scent says otherwise.” I inhale. It’s so much sweeter this close.

“My scent? Like you think you can smell me … you think I … Oh! Let me go! Now! Get off me! I’m going to scream.”

“You will most certainly scream. I promise you that,” I reply with quiet menace.

Beneath my arm, her heart hammers, she breathes quick and shallow. Sexual excitement alters the lines of her body, fuses it into new lines against mine.

Breasts tighten and lift, the slant of her jaw changes as the mouth prepares and muscles draw tight. Through my profession I have studied humans for a small eternity. Intent infuses their every movement. Road maps to their inner navigation, plastered all over their skin. Pretty girls, born to be submissive.

“Shall I take the hammer and nails from my jacket and nail your hands to the table before I fuck your ass?” I growl.

“You’re delusional. I don’t want you. Get out of my room.”

I laugh at her cry.

“You’re crazy! You know that, right? You’re abso-frigging-lutely crazy. How dare you come in here and threaten and bully and be shitty to me then try to sleep with me?”

Once again, I laugh. “I have no desire to sleep with you. I just want to fuck you.”

Her whole body jerks in my arms. “I don’t even like you,” she groans.

“I don’t like you either whore. But my cock is hard and you’re wet …”

“You can’t know that!”

My hand slides to the top button of her fly. “Want me to prove it? If you persist in lying, you leave me no choice.”

I pop the first button, then the second. Her spine changes shape against my back, yet more curve, more pliancy. The human body is remarkable.

“Are you wet, whore? Yes or no?” When she makes no reply, I pop the third button.

“Let’s make a deal. I’ll check, and if you’re dry I’ll leave.”

She hisses.

“Answer the question.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Tell me to stop.” I pop the fourth button. There’s only one left.

“I hate you.”

“I can live with that.

The whore suddenly stiffens in my arms. She pushes back with her hips, twists and turns, slams her hands into my chest and knees me in the balls. Or tries to. I block it with my thigh at the last second.

I step forward, cup her hard between her legs, rub with my palm. The heat she’s throwing off is heightened.

I laugh. I shove my hand inside her jeans, the fifth button pops off and clatters across the floor, I push my finger inside her and her knees go out from under her as she clamps down on me, hard. She’s so fucking wet. We go down to the floor together.

“Unzip me, whore.”

She yanks me open so hard, she breaks the zipper. I pick her up by the waist of her jeans and dump her out of them. She pushes up from the floor to turn but I’m behind her. I shove her back to the floor. “Stay there. I want you this way.”

Fist in her hair, I spread her legs as wide as they’ll go, crush her flat to the floor. Later I’ll take her on her hands and knees. Now I need her as still as I can keep her. I grind between her legs and she makes a choking noise. Slick with all that wet she supposedly wasn’t, I drive into her.

Air explodes from us both. She arches her neck and howls. I don’t move for a moment. Movement will fuck me royally right now. She bucks beneath me.

“Move, you bastard!”

“When I’m ready.” I close my hands on her ribs. She fights. She’ll be bruised in the morning. I dredge up a memory of fucking my slut. My blood heats. I get harder.

I begin to move. I taste her. I could eat her alive. Then our positions change. She closes her mouth on my swollen cock-head. I close my hands on her face ... either side … pressing inwards. I might not let her go.

Slick with sweat, I defile her with reverence. Or revere her with defilement. Every. Inch. Of. Her. Mother-fucking-fine-body. She likes it ... no, she loves it! No holds barred with this woman ... this whore.

And she does scream, many times …

Later I roll over on my back and let her rock her world all over me. Fuck if she doesn’t.

She straddles me, ass to my face, reverse cowgirl, tangled hair swinging. And this woman … this whore, can ride.

“Slow down.” I close my hands on her ass to keep her from bringing me off in seconds. She pushes up, drops her head down into a wet dream of a naked crouch that doesn’t have one fucking ounce of inhibition, and shoots me a feral look between her legs, around my cock.

“Stop holding me,” she snaps.

Her head is thrown back, spine arched, she’s oblivious to rules, to moral order, to all but inner imperatives.

My shaft gets even harder.

******

“Number 2 is calling round tonight with something for me, maybe we can chat about the trip over to France in the Summer?” My wife shouted in from the utility room, the place where we housed the dishwasher, freezer and that sort of thing.

Number 2 was what we called the youngest daughter, the one with the big dog. Why we nicknamed our kids after toilet duties I don’t know, but we did it when they were young and it’s stuck.

“Sure,” we were heading out to Northern France in June, to a large Gite, the wife and I, Number 2 with her partner and dog, and number 1 with her hubby and the granddaughter. It was the granddaughter’s last year before school and so we could still go earlier than everyone else.

“I’m so looking forward to the holiday dear, won’t it be fabulous to all be together?”

I smiled and nodded, and, as I stood and walked past my wife, I kissed her on the top of the head.

“Yes dear, it will.” I said these platitudinal words, But my mind was elsewhere.

Alone in the bathroom, I took out my cock. It was still a little raw from my afternoon fucking with the whore … but I needed release again. I needed my Little Girl, oh how I needed her!

I began to wank with her face in my head, and soon I was rock hard …

******

My seed pooled in the toilet tissue. I had come longf and hard, staving off the climax at its edge several times before my eventual release, but it was still somehow so unsatisfactory.

Picking up my phone I swiped to her contact details, labelled simply as LG.

“My darling Little Girl. It’s been too long. Let’s go away, the three of us. Let’s head to Gran Canaria for a holiday in the sun. We can relax by day and play by night … so many creative ways to hurt you in the sun my sweet slut. Red can come too. What do you say? Please say yes. I love you so much.”

I didn’t even know her name, nor she mine. Yet here I was about to tell her, not for the first time, that I loved her, … she knew that though, and so it would be nothing new.

I pressed SEND and my heart flew to my mouth.

If she said no, I would be so fucking disappointed.

If she said yes, then how the fuck was I going to organise it in secret?

I awaited her reply with bated breath.

Part 4 – The Girl

Days. Fucking days.

Go

Past

I wander around, bored shitless.

My body is still sore and tender, but I'm healing. Young and fit and healing fast. So he can hurt me some more. Fit for my torture. Torturer. Fucking mad I am.

I phone her. She's working. A paper on something or other. Hard work. I listen to her voice. I think of her serpent eyes and her gentle, beguiling breasts. I think of her salty snatch. I want to be with her. My tongue in her. My tits on her tits. My fingers sliding over her belly, down, opening her. Warmly softly damply sweetly kissingly.

Fucking days.

Fucking nothing.

Tie my wrists. Tie my waist. Let a knot play through my pussy.

Fucking days.

Hit my cunt.

Bulldog clipped nipples. Hurt and twist me.

Get a knife.

Over my belly. Wanting to. Afraid to.

Go to the pub. Thin soft skirt and white t-shirt and nothing under.

Sit and drink and read a book and touch myself and watch a guy watching me.

Smile and he comes and we go and he fucks me.

Fucking days.

And then he texts.

I can't believe what I am reading.

Fuck. For real?

I text her.

For real?

He says so.

How can he? His wife? His job?

Fuck!

Shall we?

Fuck, why not.

Fuck.

Bite my lip. Think of her. Serpent eyes. Blue but not blue but not green but not turquoise but not ..... Soft lips. Sunny soft lips and hair I part and run fingers through and kiss her ears.

I text him.

Then delete it.

I text him.

Then delete it.

I text him.

'OK. When?'

I press send. And wait. Us. Him. Fucking days.

Part 5 – The Guy

I looked down at the girl on her hands and knees before me. The tight denim of her jeans covered her firm, peachy ass, the waistband slung low enough to reveal the lacey band of a pair of pink, what looked like, girl boxers.

“Stay where you are girl,” I ordered as I too knelt and took up position behind her. My cock was hard, very hard as I pushed the rigid length against her bottom and began to slowly rotate my hips, dry humping her.

Reaching forward my hands slipped under the exposed aperture of her cropped tee shirt and slid slowly up from her delicate waist. I her heard moan and felt her shiver. Her breasts were unfettered and hung pendulously taking up residence in my palms as I stimulated her nipples.

Pulling away I gripped her long straight hair and yanked her to her feet. Her face grimaced to reveal how much that hurt but she said nothing.

Pushing her hard against the wall I pulled the shirt up and off. Her breasts were magnificent, nipples now hard and pointing directly at me.

I wanted her … needed her … needed to hurt her.

“Hands up,” I issued my instruction as the girl slowly placed each hand, palms facing out, on the timber beam that she now rested them against.

As I positioned the nail pushing into her soft flesh and raised the hammer, she whimpered, eyes closed, lip bitten … a tear rolled slowly down her cheek … she looked beautifully tragic!

“Hi Danielle love, can you give the bathrooms special attention today please …”

Danielle, our cleaner, turned her head forcing my day dream to end and my gaze to turn away from the very real tight denim covered ass that faced me.

“Oh hi,” Danielle smiled, pulling the buds from her ears and standing up. She had a key and so had let herself in to get on with her duties.

My wife looked up from her position on the stairs and smiled at me, “they need the longer clean if that’s okay honey.”

The scene before me was simply my wife talking about house cleaning with our regular domestic cleaner, but I was seeing sex in everything now … I needed my date with depravation, and I needed it desperately.

My day dream, in which this pretty young, innocent domestic was about to be crucified, was worrying. How long could I contain and control my desires?

******

“Did you transfer that money dear?” My wife asked as we wandered into the kitchen for a mid-morning coffee, my erection now softened.

“I did, all sorted.” The France trip had been paid for by ‘Bank-of-dad’ and so now we were all set. Except I wasn’t. Whilst everyone else was relaxed and looking forward to our trip, I had business to attend to before that.

“What time is your clinic today?”

“Oh, erm, three o’clock for a couple of hours, why?”

“And you’re in Leeds at the Bupa Hospital today?” It was a question to which she knew the answer.

“Yes it’s the weekly surgery clinic, should be done by 5pm and I’ll be home by 6.”

“Good, because …” she continued, “don’t forget we’re meeting ‘Tricia and George for dinner at 7:30 at the Fatted Calf.”

I sighed inwardly. I was growing weary of domesticity. I needed my Little Girl. I was pining for her.

******

“'OK. When?”

Two words and that was the extent of her reply. But they were two words that meant the world to me.

The excitement in the pit of my stomach made me feel like teenager again, one who had just secured a ‘sure-thing’ date with the class slut-beauty. Getting these girls naked and abusing their bodies was nothing new for me, but doing so in the sun-kissed holiday destination of San Agustin was very new for all of us. What a time we would have!”

How the fuck was I going to pull this off? But that was not a thought for this very minute. Right now my elation anaesthetised me against any negativity or potential for complication.

I hadn’t mentioned to my Little Girl the Police getting involved with the Bridewell cells escapade, nor the DNA matching and the need I felt get out of the country. Those points remained in reserve should I ever have needed them to convince the girls to come away with me. But I didn’t need to convince them! Fucking hell, they really were going to come!

“Are you ready Darling?” My wife shouted up. Dinner with ‘Tricia and George. It was usually me that was waiting but I had become distracted when my Little Girl texted.

“Great. Let me get back to you with ‘when’. We should go on a Friday until maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. Are there any weekends Red and you can’t do?”

With my heart soaring I pressed SEND. I was already picturing my Little Girl and her lover, Red, in skimpy bikinis, laughing and playing on the beach, drinking cocktails in short skirts, chained naked to my bed, licking one another, sucking me … crying out … fuuuuuuuck!

Okay now … breathe … and … focus … you need to go out and enjoy yourself this evening. The plan can wait until tomorrow.

“On my way love.”

Dinner was delicious and quite frankly my mood was verging on ecstatic … my mind filled with thoughts of Tropical Torture, Sun-kissed submission, Blood on the Beach and two gorgeous girls in my bed … tied and not tied … crying and laughing … sucking and fucking and begging …

“Dear?” I was taken from my reverie by my wife’s slightly louder speaking volume than normal.

“Huh?” I looked up in time to see the cute little waitress taking our plates away. White shirt too tight. Large tits for a teenager bursting to get free. I felt my breathing quicken. I needed to fuck. To fuck hard. And to fuck now.

“Drink love? George is ordering more drinks. He’s having a brandy, will you join him?”

Will I join him? Course I fucking will … bring me the fucking bottle!

Part 6 – The Girl

“Great. Let me get back to you with ‘when’. We should go on a Friday until maybe Tuesday or Wednesday. Are there any weekends Red and you can’t do?”

Any weekends we can't do? Fuck no. A free weekend in the sun with extras? Me and Abi? Fuck no. Any fucking weekend!

I'm lying, sprawled naked on my bed with the grey northern light slanting over me. One hand on my phone, one on my clit. And I'm wondering where he is. Snatching a moment in the utility room while his wife's cooking? Disappearing into the loos with a quick 'excuse me' as his colleague chatters over the table with the two ladies? I imagine his wife. Still pretty, probably. Well-groomed. Just a hint of the student he fell for when he was 21... too much grooming probably. Expensive hair-do. Expensive jewellery (presents when he feels guilty? He's every reason to feel guilty... it won't just be us two I'm thinking). Expensive clothes. If only she knew... What a bastard her sweet hubby really is...

So, any fucking weekend for some sunny fucking fun.

I text Abi.

Yeah. Not a problem.

We laugh. Talk about him and his problem. Which is a distraction from our problem. Us mad fuckers.

I ask her to vidcon me. Take her clothes off. Touch her tits. Touch her cunt. Fuck I love her.

Touch myself. Round with my finger. Moaning. Belly rising and falling with a hundred strokes. Fuck! Hot fucking girl she is.

And her.

Together.

Hot fucking girls we are.

Together. Moaning. Timing it right. Faster. Slower. Coming.

Fucking mad fucking girls we are.

Any weekend for us Mister. Any weekend you fucking fancy Mister. Sooner the fucking better Mister.

Fuck you Abi. Just want to fuck you. Love you, you fucking gorgeous girl Abi.

FUUUUCKKKINGG god I want to fuck with you sooo much Abi!

Part 7 – The Guy

“Are you sure I can’t come dear?” My wife smiled at me across the living room with smirk on her face that says, ‘it’s okay I’m only joking … or am I?’

I chuckled back at her, hopefully not with a noticeable nervous undertone.

“I know that San Agustin sounds glamourous but honestly honey, it’s a bloody medical conference, not only that but I’m hosting a dinner and facilitating evening workshops.”

“I know dear, really I do. It will be hard work … no place for me being there …”

My wife’s conciliatory, understanding attitude was why our marriage had survived so long.

“Even though I could just lounge around in the hotel pool all day until you were free …” she added as a deliberate afterthought designed entirely as a sting in the tail.

“It’s that paper I wrote on managing new infections during surgical procedures that has done it.” I was making my case in more detail now – I needed to be very careful. Circling the truth in a lie was always best whenever possible … it was why I had declared San Agustin as the destination.

“That’s what has driven my invitation, and these things are always held over a long weekend.”

Luckily my darling wife had never been the type to check my whereabouts out, because if she had she would find no trace of the GMC Annual Summer Symposium in the Gran Canaria, in a few weeks time!

But I was going to the sun ... the super, sexy, stimulating, submissions drenched destination of sun! We were going … my Little Girl, her lover, and friend, Red, and me … the luckiest guy alive!

But still no names. It was our tacit agreement, it always had been. So how the fuck did I book this without their names?

The hotel was no problem to sort. A multi bedroomed apartment at the Playa Feliz. A series of luxury apartments, each one with a private pool, and a jacuzzi hot tub, as well as access to a larger heated outdoor pool. Perfect and they only required my name.

And so, the accommodation was sorted. Friday to Tuesday in three week’s time. Too long of course, I wanted to go now, but I required enough time to clear my diary.

Now for the flights.

Damn. Now names were an issue. Passports required. Fuck. We are simply going have to share, I thought to myself. They will need to tell me their names.

“Little One, I am going to need your names, yours and Red’s along with passport details. Can you send them to me please?”

I pressed SEND on my text.

I was excited. ‘Red’ and ‘My Little Girl’ was all I knew them as, until now. There was that one time when the slut told me her name was Amy, and then laughed. It clearly wasn’t, and that seemed so damn long ago.

What would they be called? Maybe Red was an ‘Emma’. That seemed to fit. And the slut …?

As I was pondering this, the reply text from My Little Girl came back.

“No names Mister, we like it that way. Tell us what flight to book and we will book it ourselves. You can refund us when we get there if you want.”

Shit … great suggestion, but a shame and I felt slight disappointment, I had been kind of looking forward to finding out what they were called. But maybe retaining the ‘mystery’ was for the best, and as a plan, it would work.

“Okay,” I began to type back, “book yourselves on the BA Flight BA320 from Manchester, departing at 10am, on Friday the 17th April, and the BA flight BA321, departing at 3pm on Tuesday the 21st. Book the highest class you can find and I will repay you when I see you. Can you do that?”

I pressed SEND and waited.

“Oh, look at this dear. You remember when I said that they had found fresh blood at the Bridewell Cells in Leeds, well now they have closed them all off, the cells that is, so that a full forensic team can gain access. Looks like they are taking it seriously.”

Fuck. Calm down … nothing can be traced to me, or to ‘us’. I admonished myself for this spontaneous panic which was all well and good, but the sooner we could get away and out of the country for a few days the better.

“Really,” I replied, “But there’s no body been found has there?”

“It doesn’t say so dear, but I guess the blood must have come from somewhere.”

I shook my head slightly and slowly, a motion detectable only by myself. It did come from somewhere, the battered cunt and beaten body of a gorgeous Redheaded student and the punctured wrists of her nubile, lovely little lover.

“I guess so,” I nodded, again only to myself.

My phone buzzed. I looked down at the message.

“Yes Mister, that’s fine, we can do it on credit cards and then you pay us back.”

She was nothing if not brief, my slut. She never typed ten words when one would do. And they let students have credit cards these days?

I took myself off upstairs for a little privacy, and I hoped she would still be there, my slut, on the end of the phone. I wanted her, and I needed her now!

“Where are you now?” I typed and pressed SEND.

“Pub.” Came the reply.

“Who with?”

“Friends.”

“Red?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Males or?”

“Both.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Nothing, I’m naked … joking of course.”

I smiled when I read that. But her words still turned me on. Naked. In Public. Embarrassed. Humiliated. I wanted that. I wanted my Little Girl to feel sexually humiliated in Public. ENF – Embarrassed Nude Female.

“Tell me.”

“Jeans, very tight. Tee shirt, no bra.”

Fuck. Hot.

“Are you wearing panties?”

“Yes.”

“Describe them.”

“Black, lacey, girl-boxers.”

Embarrassed Nude Female. More than that, I wanted the slut, my slut … my Little Girl, to be humiliated under my instruction.

“Find a guy. Tell him your services cost twenty pounds. Take him to the toilets and suck him off.”

The thought of her being used by someone else turned me on. Especially when I had ordered it. She was my whore … I was her pimp. Embarrassed Nude Female.

“Send me a picture.”

Would she do it …?

Part 8 – The Girl

“No names Mister, we like it that way. Tell us what flight to book and we will book it ourselves. You can refund us when we get there if you want.”

He knew this. Already. We'd told him. No names. Not now, not ever. And why did he need them? He had his names for us. Not very inventive, but good enough. I knew Abi's name. She knew mine. That was enough. The rest was easy. Just book the flights.

Fuck yes! We were really going! Too far off, but fuck it. We were going! Sun and sand and sea and soft sheets and wine and her and a bit of hurt. I hoped.

Fuck knows how he'd fixed it with his wife. Fuck knows and I don't fucking care.

I'd missed him. Nah. I'd missed him hurting me. And her. And watching him hurt me and her. I liked that. Best of everything.

More texts. She's bound to find out sometime. He's bound to leave his phone hanging around sometime...

“Yes Mister, that’s fine, we can do it on credit cards and then you pay us back.”

Easy.

Sorted.

He probably thinks that's how I always talk. 'Yes Mister...' like a little sloven. Like a backstreet kid. I'm not.

But I don't care. I want to be nothing but a body to him. Nothing but flesh to hurt. That's best.

Last night I was at the cinema. The local art-house one. With a friend who isn't Abi. Who's also fucking lovely. Pink hair babe. I guess he'd call her 'Pinkie'. Portrait of a Lady on Fire. Fucking brilliant. Gorgeous Adele Haenel. Fucking lovely. So gorgeous. So beautiful a face. Why are all the French Adele's like a total dream? Adele's and Lea's and whoever. All so fucking lovely. I just want to fuck those sweet French babes.

But last night my pink-haired girl was good. Very good. And so was I. Two good girls in a small bed eating each other's cunts out. Fuck, he'd have liked that. I think he probably wanks off to his memory of me every fucking day. Naked, bleeding in ropes. He needs that too in his dreaming I think.

And now he's fixing it. And lying to his lovely wife. Again. And again. Sweet. He's going to get caught for sure some day. Fuck him.

He's asking me where I am. I tell him. He's asking me what I'm dressed in.

“Jeans, very tight. Tee shirt, no bra.”

He wants me to be wearing no panties. I know. I tell him I am. Black and lacy. I'm lying. I'm naked underneath. Nude and sweet and bare.

He wants me to suck a guy off. Any guy. He wants a photo. He's a fuck head.

So. Fuck him.

I grab her. Kiss her deep in her mouth.

'Let's go' I say to her.

Into the passage at the back of the bar. Where anyone can see us. Open her pants. Slip my fingers in. Bite open the buttons on her shirt. Face in, licking and kissing her tits. Her back against the wall. Her legs lifting and wrapping round my hips. A guy squeezing past with two full pint glasses.

'Having fun girls?'

Fuck him. More fun than he's having. More fun than him and Him. Any fucking him.

Fingers in her pink hair, tongue in her ear.

Pushing myself at her. Push Push Push. Hard pushes. Into her. Her into me. Her fingers opening me now.

Fucking good.

'Ladies... not so loud please...'

He laughs.

That sort of a place.

Biting her lips. Sucking her lips. Fingers everywhere. Mine. Hers. Tits and cunt and hair and arms. Fucking her. Her fucking me.

'Fucking gorgeous you are' she says.

'Come home with me again' I say.

'Better here' she says. 'Or out in the rain' she says. 'Let's fuck in the rain' she says.

Gasp ourselves apart. Smile. Stroke each other.

'Mind yourselves girls'

'Fuck you'

Kiss her again. Sweaty bodies. Kiss her lips. Sweaty lips. Kiss her ear. Kiss her pink hair.

Buy a couple of Coronas. Lime stuffed in. Clink. Sit at the table. Laugh.

Fuck him. No fucking £20 blow job photos. Unbutton her again. Phone over her cunt. Easy. Send it to him.

Better than a fucking blow job Mister. SEND.

We finish our beers. Go out in the rain. Cars splashing by. Side alley. In the rain. Dark as fuck. Take our tops off. By the bins. Over the bins. Her back arched over the bins. Our bodies soaking wet. Sliding our bodies together. Fucking gorgeous girl.

Who needs fucking names? She's a babe. I'm a babe. Tonight we're each other's fucking babes. No-name babes to him. Fuck him.

Part 9 – The Guy

I love flights. Some people hate the long boring hours, but not me. Life is what you make of it and whilst for some an Airbus might just be a place filled with half sleeping people, it was something completely different to me. The plane is a hunting ground. The pathways between the chairs are like the open places in the forest where the vulnerable rabbits find their way. Business class is like a clearing in the middle of this forest were the most well-fed rabbits appear, so open and vulnerable. The toilets and restrooms are like small dark caves; very tempting to lure and corner the rabbits in and feed on them.

I have never embarked upon anything like the extreme escapades I was now enjoying with my Little Girl and Red, but I realise that I have always been a predator when it comes to pretty girls. Even, in days gone by, when I was sitting on a comfortable plane seat with my family around me, my eye would be roving around looking for a tight shirt, a low cut collar, a button too many open around exposed breasts.

I was the fox watching the rabbits, planning my movement and ultimately how I would feed from them, and my feeding took many different guises.

Only once had I had my gaze been reciprocated to any extent, and that encounter had resulted in very frantic fumble in the toilet with a businesswoman on a Transatlantic flight a few years ago. I was alone on that flight and so the moves were easy to make.

More often the ‘feeding’ consisted of something more self-gratifying, like a casual brush against the exposed breasts, a calculated apology when I accidently bump into them, and occasionally a gratuitous feel or fondle. All actions of the predator, but today there was no gazing required. No tracking of the rabbits and no fumbling, fondling or feeling.

I had my own girls with me, and even though they looked like my daughters, they were not … not at all!

******

The airport lounge had been filled with excitement when we all met, the girls and I … my slut in her tight jeans, tee shirt and jacket and her flame-haired friend dressed in a similar manner. They had passed their cases through security, as had I, and so now we travelled light.

I had embraced them both, and they had returned the hugs. A more chaste welcome than the last few times, when we had been alone at the ***********ed ‘torture venues’. But it was nice. This was nice. It felt nice.

I knew however that over the next few days nice would become explosive!

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Red said out loud as we drank tea and coffee, waiting for the boarding announcement. The airport wasn’t busy. It wasn’t a national holiday, and Summer hadn’t reached us yet, and so the flight appeared as if it might have room on it. Good.

“Well believe it Red, because we are,” I beamed, handing them the cash in envelopes to cover the cost of their flights.

“Fuck it Mister,” I love how the Little Girl cursed at every opportunity, “We look like whores, with you passing us money in envelopes.”

I smiled, raised my eyebrows and said nothing.

And so now here we were on the plane bound for San Agustin in the Gran Canaria. A whole two hours and twenty minutes of time to relax and enjoy the flight.

We weren’t sitting together. They were, the two of them, but I wasn’t. In fact, I had two seats to myself. Settled and belted and almost ready to take off, the slut looked and smiled at me. Fuck, she was beautiful, and that smile said a thousand words to me. I loved her, really loved her … I knew that now.

When my Little Girl stood to go to the toilet I am ready for action. I move over to the seat where Red is sitting … the two of them have an otherwise empty row. A smile, a brush of hands, a touch and a whisper asking if she has ever done it this high. Despite the presence of a bra, I see Red’s nipples harden underneath her tight tee shirt. I notice my arousal but ignore it … for now.

Upon my instruction Red gets up and heads to the toilet. I follow seconds later, a little conscious of who might be watching us, but it’s a calm, quiet flight and no one seems to be.

The door is left open and in I go. It’s tight for two people never mind three, but both girls look flushed and needy.

My slut didn’t know this was coming, and so I move behind her, whispering in her ear how easy it was to convince her friend to do this. I tell her to look at Red. I notice her scent changing a little, her breathing becoming faster.

This is what I was waiting for. I glance at Red and nod. She immediately moves in, grabs my Little Girl’s hair, and kisses her hard. I notice how eagerly the slut gives in; I see Red’s fingers move inside the slut’s jeans. I hear the moan when her fingers find her clit and begin to massage.

My body moves, my hands work quickly and the slut’s clothes fall to the ground. When I touch her body it feels electrifying. I feel the softness, the tension in her muscles. When Red’s kiss ends, I can hear my Little Girl’s heavy breathing, her moans as the fingers still work on her clit, push inside her, arousing her.

There are no words exchanged, just a breathy ‘Ohhh fuckkkk,” whispered from open lips.

Red lets go just as I grab the slut’s head and force her onto her knees. Her resistance is gone and she readily takes my exposed erection into her mouth. I feel so powerful now; this is so much better then preying on frightened rabbits. I enjoy her mouth, keeping a little pressure on her head to let her know this is her fate.

Her friend and lover decides she wants in, and pulls the slut backwards, her face landing between Red’s thighs. I order my Little Girl to lick and she readily obeys.

Then the slut is on her back, knees bent up due to the confined space, with Red straddling her head. I push apart her knees and invade her slit, thrusting my cock deep into her body. My Little Girl responds to her impalement, back arching, enjoying the pleasure. Red faces me and I look into her eyes, riding her lover’s mouth hard until I can see the climax etched into her face. I fuck the slut hard and fast. Red and I cum together while we feast …

******

The passengers leave the plane one by one. They have no knowledge of what happened on this flight. My slut and Red disembark after me and they head over once we are inside the terminal building. They look tired, but they are smiling.

The heat is already a little overpowering.

“We’re here,” my Little Girl says, with girlish enthusiasm.

“We are,” I respond, “Welcome to San Agustin!”

Part 10 – The Girl

We got to the airport early. Checked in our bags, went through security. The usual leers. Fuck them all.

She is gorgeous. She always is. Abi. Here. Us two. Amazing. Missed her so much. I think of her all the time.

I think of her even when I'm fucking some guy or tribbing up some pinkie. I think of her all the time.

So. Now. She. Was. Here.

Gossip, a coffee, a bit of cake. Smiles. Fucking lovely girl she is.

He'd be here soon.

So...

We went to the girls. I had to and she had to. Fuck each other.

Didn't bother with a cubical. Fuck it. T-shirts off. Fuck it! Tits and hands and mouths and mouths and lips and teeth and fingers. And buttons and zips and fuck it she's so fucking lovely. Fucking lovely wet. Fucking lovely girl.

'Really?'

'Yeah really missis. Want some?' laughing.

'Tssshhh...'

'Piss off'

Fucking love her. So fucking much.

Lippy. A bit. For him.

And then we find him. He's so fucking excited. I can't say I blame him. An old guy and his two.... daughters? Daughter and her friend? Daughter and her lezzy friend? Nothing odd. Not fucking much nothing odd...

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she says. I can't either. But we are. He gives us the dosh. Like the two whores we are. I tell him. We are his whores. I like being a whore. But I get paid in hurt not cash. So that makes me a pain whore I guess. And Abi. Two pain whores. Fuck it. Off to the sun for some pain and sex. Me and her. Fucking amazing. Her in the sun. Sand on her tits. Sand in her cunt. Sand in her hair. Fucking amazing.

Flight gets called. On we go. Boring airplanes. Next to her. Announcements. 'For your comfort and safety...' . Fucking laugh at that one. We aint going somewhere safe. Not us two. We're going for some sweet lavish sunny pain. Sex and pain and pain and sex. Yeaaah.

I go for a piss. I can guess what will happen and it does. Three of us. In that tiny space. Spaghetti sex. It's fine. It's a nice way to start. Fucking crowded. Fine. Sucking and biting. He's happy. That's good coz we for sure are happy. Fucking amazing happy.

So order a drink each. Kiss each other. No-one fucking cares. Smile and kiss. Waiting for the belt sign to come on. Fucking amazing. Us two on holiday with this mad guy. Me and her. We're mad. How's he doing this? How the fuck does he get away with it? He's going to fuck us and hurt us and his wife doesn't even guess. Fucking wild!

And we're here. Waiting for bags. Heat filling the hall. Beads of sweat on Abi's boobs. Smiles. Brushing her red hair from her eyes. Love her tits when she bends down over her luggage. Fucking lovely tits. My Abi's tits. Fucking lovely Abi and her fucking lovely tits.

“We’re here,” I say. Just in case he hasn't spotted that we are here. In this lovely hot place. Where he can lovely hot hurt us. Fucking amazing me and fucking amazing Abi. Here to be hurt. And to kiss on the sand and swim naked in the sea. Fucking amazing.

We are really here....

Part 11 – The Guy

“Hey,” I called out, and she turned toward the sound of my voice. I didn’t know what to call out to be honest. We had just arrived and the girls had wanted to get outside into the private heated pool as quickly as possible. It might have only been April but the weather was stunning. I thought that calling both ‘Little Girl’ and ‘slut’ were a bit too inappropriate for public consumption, despite us being in the private area at the back of our apartment.

I could look at her without her seeing me as I walked towards where she lay, her dark, wet hair curling, the pale, currently untanned skin of her chest, stomach and arms beaded with water.

I realized, if I could watch her, unnoticed, then she could have been watching me, too. Watching me watching her … them. Touching myself, reaching inside my swim shorts, stroking my burgeoning erection. That thought made my breath catch.

I moved closer and closer, edging her way, and her body blocked out the sight of Red laying by her side away from me.

“Beautiful,” I said, not even trying to keep the comment to myself. My Little Girl’s head turned toward me and she grinned, stood, stretched her gloriously nubile body and dived into the pool. And what a damn graceful dive it was!

I plunged in too, lunging at her just as she pushed off from the bottom, trying to swim away. We both went under for a moment, and I had her by her thigh, gripping my way up to her hips, my bigger body twisting against the slut’s more delicate frame under the water. For a moment, she was beneath me, in my arms, pressed against me, and I felt my cock hardening as it pressed against her leg.

My fingers brushed over her breast, and I felt my Little Girl shiver. I came up gasping and so did she. The pool depth was graded and we were out deeper now … I smiled when I noticed how she had to stand on her tiptoes to stay above the water level. I was under the water to my shoulders, my face only inches from hers.

“You got me,” she whispered, licking her lips and sliding her slender thigh against mine. My eyes widened and I moved my hand to grip her hips, my knee sliding up between her legs … provocatively high, until I heard Red calling, “Anyone want a drink, I’m gonna get beers!”

My Little Girl laughed as she turned away from me and started swimming back to the poolside. I followed.

Red came back with three chilled bottles – the fridge was already fully stocked from the small on-site store - and handed them out. We spread a couple of blankets the and laid out in the sun. My Little Girl was next to me and Red shared her blanket. I had my own … too big to comfortably share, I guess.

I looked over at my slut. She was on her back, her arm thrown over her eyes. I couldn’t help watching her breasts rise and fall with her breath, full and firm under the leopard print bikini top.

I called up the memory of what she looked like naked, tied and bound, broken and bleeding. I moved up onto my elbow, facing her, and when I met her eyes, she smiled. I felt her gaze piercing me, appraising me as much as I was evaluating her.

She stretched, arching her back, and my eyes widened and my brow furrowed, my smile fading as I watched her roll onto her side and then over onto her stomach, adjusting her bikini straps as she did so. My Little Girl’s skin and hair were still wet from the swim, as were mine, and the heat of the sun felt good.

I saw the slight movement as she opened her legs a little, I noticed how she lifted her hips, saw her almost bare ass rise up in the air as she did. Through half-closed eyes, she watched me watching her, a lazy smile on her face.

Her eyes glanced at my crotch, and even in the loose material of my shorts, I knew that she could see I was hard. The slut licked her lips, and I remembered how my rigid shaft had fucked her on the plane, how my own hand had brought that same length to a climax at my own home just for these two teenage beauties!

This was a dream, surely. A vague fantasy from which I would wake … it had to be!

My cock tingled with feeling, and I wanted to touch it, but refrained. I fantasised about my Little Girl’s hand being there, those delicate fingers moving slowly upon me. I had to shift my position, moving things around, and I imagined it was her hand doing it, I ached at the thought.

I was totally lost in my fantasy when a stream of cold water splashed over my back, making me yell out and kneel up. Red laughed and ran, trailing a blue bucket behind her. I hadn’t even noticed when she stood up.

“Ohhh you little minx, you’re going to get it now!” I got to my feet and took off after her. I caught up with her at the poolside, grabbing her bikini bottoms. She squealed and frantically apologized, laughing still. I tackled her to the cold stone ground, and straddled her glorious body.

“You know I’m not ticklish Mister.” Red looked up at me grinning as I gazed upon her body, my cock still pushing hard against the material of my shorts.

“But I bet your Little Girl is.”

“Hey!” my slut cried, as I leapt away from Red and grabbed at her ankle. She gasped, trying to shake me loose.

“Oh, no you don’t!” I laughed.

“Help me Red!” I called, and her flame haired friend giggled as she got up from the stone floor.

The slut couldn’t get away from the hold I had on her ankle, and as she attempted to get up, she succeeded only in tumbling back down to the floor, as Red and I tickled her ribs making her laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop!” she gasped, rolling away from us, but I still had her ankle in a hold, and now my other hand was on her calf, moving upwards.

“I’ll hold her!” I grabbed the slut’s hip and used it as leverage to roll her onto her back. She was helpless, laughing as Red dug long fingers into her ribs. “… And you tickle her.”

Then My Little Girl’s eyes widened as I climbed on top of her, straddling her prostrate body. I grabbed her arms, pinning them above her head. Her eyes met mine, she looked breathless and excited, and she knew that I could see it.

My cock pushed hard against her mound, penetration separated by the material of our swim wear. Putting my mouth next to her ear, the heat of my breath at her lobe, I whispered, “Now I really have got you, Little Girl!”

Part 12 – The Girl

It's beautiful. More beautiful than I could have imagined or hoped.

I've been to beautiful places, but not with my beautiful Abi. So it's super beautiful. Coz she is so super beautiful.

He's ok too. He's super kind. He hurts me, he's kind to me. That's ok.

And it's beautiful. And I'm swimming and the sky is blue and the water is lovely.

And I stretch out and he looks at my body arching. At my tits and my ribs and my cunt mound and my legs and my pretty face and I know he likes it.

And she likes it.

She loves it.

He slides himself against me. Wet me. Soft wet me. Coaxing him. Sliding him too. He likes it.

“You got me,”

He really likes it. Likes me. Likes me so much. Loves me so much.

I bet he's thinking of me stretched out on that rack. He likes me like that. I like me like that. We like the same things...

Abi comes back with the beers. Glistening, Ice Cold in Alex beers. I'm out, tracing my finger down the beads, lying on my belly. I'm smiling at him. One of my half-open smiles that says something he doesn't quite understand. Coz he's just ever-so-slightly out-of-place with us two girls. And he is thinking to himself that really, really it's amazing being here, but somehow he really really shouldn't be...

And now he's soaked! Nice one!

And now he's laughing and chasing her and getting her down on the ground but he really wants me down on the ground and I really want to be down on the ground and he's onto me and getting me down on the ground and onto my back and he's right on me and he's getting Abi to hold me and he wants to do something childish but he really wants to fuck me and I am good with him fucking me coz he's here with me in the sun by the pool and it's all a bit mad and a bit crazy and he really should fuck me now and he's pushing against my cunt and my bikini is between his hard fucker and my cunt and I'm liking him pushing against me and being heavy against me and whispering to me and the tiny droplet of water is sliding down my ear and he's pushing and he wants me so fucking much and I want to be fucked by him so fucking much right fucking now.

And he whispers “Now I really have got you, Little Girl!”

And he really has got me and he really can fuck me now and now, just now, I really am his Little Girl and I'm so fucking happy being his little girl and being fucked in the sun by the pool with those beads of water running over me and Abi being there and the sun on my arms and my legs and his body heavy on me and fucking me and hurting me can wait and … it's so fucking good.

Part 13 – The Guy

The light was drawing in, as the April evening began to encroach into day 1 of our time in the sun.

“I really have got you now …” as I spoke I looked directly into the eyes of the slut beneath me.

At my words the tickling stopped and the laughter ceased. My Little Girl looked up at me, chewing her lips.

I stood and moved to sit on a sun lounger … there were several surrounding the pool.

“Sit there Red, and watch …” With widened eyes, filled with voyeuristic expectation, my slut’s friend and lover did as she was asked.

Then, upon my direction, My Little Girl stood, head down, looking exquisitely submissive and she straddled my lap, her pale back to my chest, and I took a moment to kiss a few of the faded scars scattered across her shoulders before tilting her forward. Ever graceful, she controlled her descent, resting her head on the stretchy sun-lounger surface, before arching her hips up.

I undid the tie on her bikini top and with a slight shift of her body I was able to pull it away. I repeated the action with her thong leaving her gloriously naked laid across my lap.

With just her upper thighs resting on my legs, I could spank her like her ass was a pair of bongo drums, something that brought a giggle to her lips when I started by lightly slapping out the rhythm of "We Will Rock You."

That giggle turned into a gasp as I delivered a harder slap to one upturned cheek, a bright pink mark appearing in its wake, another appearing with a "crack" on the other side. I smiled when I saw my Little Girl biting her knuckles to keep at least a semblance of quiet in this outdoor area as I continued to spank her. Her lovely face contorting into erotic winces and grimaces, soft whimpers occasionally escaping her lips.

She twisted her neck to look up at me. I glanced at Red who seemed mesmerised on the scene unfolding before her.

My slut could say so much with her face. It was truly a work of art. I loved everything about her, but I could stare at her face for hours, try to memorize it, try to describe, try to hold onto its beauty forever, only to then see something new.

I raised my hand and whacked her ass again. Like Red had on the upstairs landing at my house, the slut began to squirm …

her giggles having long ago turned to cries. But unlike her lover, my Little Girl did not beg for me to stop. Not one word of dissent, and despite the obvious pain she endured … for me … for herself. She wanted to feel the pain and I needed her to feel it.

Once her backside was suitably reddened, I took advantage of the other possibility this position offered to me.

“There’s lube in my bag Red, reach it to me please.”

I heard a gasp from my Little Girl, as, lubing up two fingers from the bottle by my side, I slid them deep into her exposed and opened pussy. The position naturally angled them towards her g-spot, and I bore down on the ridged flesh, massaging it back and forth with my fingertips.

The effect was instantaneous, as she twisted and turned in the awkward position in which I had placed her, grinding her forehead into the lounger, continuing to bite her finger as her chest and face flushed even deeper and I relentlessly drove her on towards orgasm.

My Little Girl came a few moments later with a jerk and a unstoppable exclamation of "Oh fuck it Mister, yes ohhhhhh fuck yes, yes, yesssssss!"

Perfect.

I watched her body hump backwards at me as her pussy squeezed my fingers powerfully tight, and her ass clenched and released simultaneously.

Once she'd regained her breath, My Little Girl rolled gracefully off my lap and turned to kneel before me, arms clasped behind her back, eyes downcast.

"How would you like me now Mister?"

I lifted her chin with a finger, stroked her cheek with a knuckle as she looked up at me expectantly.

"On the lounger. Here."

“I’m going for more beer,” Red decided she had watched enough. I guessed she was going to relieve herself … I hoped that she was.

My Little Girl positioned herself as instructed, upper body on a pillow, abdomen on the stretchy surface, ass lifted and legs spread. Her asshole and labia were both opened following her climax, and I wet first one, then two fingers with lube, sliding them into the smaller, tighter hole, stretching her a little more open as I greased the orifice I'd be entering.

Positioning myself I sank in slowly, taking my time to allow her to get used to the sensation.

“Oh Mister, fuck me … fuck my ass …” My Little Girl turned her head to one side, and I watched as her face went through a wide range of erotic expressions and contortions … smiles, grimaces, gasps, winces, grins, and a raise of the eyebrows as she concentrated on the sensation of my cock slowly stretching through her tightest hole.

"Oh Mister, my Mister ..." she