The Chace McCartson Tale RW Chapter III
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Since she seemed such a small, frail, light-boned young woman despite her wild writhing and her almost-continuous moans of pleasure at what I had done with my hands and tongue after stripping her bare, I was extra careful when I mounted her, spread her long legs and got the swollen head of my rigid pintle through her curly fleece and up into her narrow inner lips. She squealed and closed her eyes as I grabbed her round buttocks, lifted her hips, popped my smooth-headed ram forward and sank a few thick inches once I was past her tightly constricted entrance.
I could feel her moist cavern drawing me steadily deeper by a series of contractions, but I hesitated to fully impale her, not sure whether or not I was penetrating a virgin. She undulated and moaned piteously. I licked her jutting nipples, barely half-way into her.
"Moll," I said quietly, looking down at her fevered face, her eyes still closed but her mouth open, her breath ragged and uneven, "Moll, you've done this before haven't you?" Her firm breasts rose and fell rapidly, dark tits extended and hard, poking up at my hairy chest as her belly trembled against mine.
She nodded vigorously, and said, "Kiss me." She arched and I bent and we kissed deeply. Her tongue came into my mouth, and I sucked it and thrust, driving another inch or two farther in her steaming cunny, spreading her open, battering at her. She was very tight, but then she was quite young and obviously seldom horsed.
Halfway to my meaty goal, I was already in paradise and making short in and out moves through her velvet grip while she was getting much more slippery within as her pelvis and hips began to respond to my motions. Hard work, but well worth it, I thought to myself and smiled.
"Please," she gasped as I backed off a bit and prepared to drive my thick shaft fully into her glove-tight box, "no more right now," and she reached down between our straining bodies and grasped my hard prod. It was much too late. She spasmed, clamped me repeatedly and cried out like a trapped animal as I rammed her, pressing against her womb and bringing her to a series of orgasms. I gritted my teeth and went deaf to her pleas, battering her fist against her groin.
My gristly rod slid beneath my skin and despite her grip, four or five inches of iron hard prick moved in and out of her while she held me. I ground her fist into her, stimulating her minuscule clit and bringing her to another series of shuddering spasms that ended with her swinging both arms wide and crying out like a wildcat. That was when I sank the rest of my rigid spear into her, striking bone and then penetrating her womb's entrance, and she screamed again and swooned, thoroughly skewered but unconscious of it, gigged on my heavy pike, my battering ram, filled completely, rooted, reamed, perhaps ruined, surely nailed, and probably pregnant, torn open and eviscerated by my cock.
She was such a luscious pigeon, and I was so much in need, that I grasped her hips and rammed onward, faster and faster, until I exploded in her limp depths, jolting her insensate body but relieving my ballocks's tension. After a bit, and feeling ashamed of myself, I withdrew my sticky prod from her cloying quim and sat looking down at her loveliness, her muff and thighs wet with our juices, gobs of my sperm rolling out of her. After all, I had known her less than an hour.
She was as pretty and delicate a young woman as I had ever seen, the much loved and thoroughly coddled daughter of a Tory bigwig. She had come under my protection through a series of mishaps that left her feeling she owed me her life, if not her virtue, after we had invaded her home and slaughtered several cowardly guards, sparing the women of course. Her father was our goal, but she was probably not aware of that yet. What she was, was well and truly served, filled with my spew.
I pulled up the quilt and snuggled down beside her, wrapping my right arm about her and my other hand resting on her fuzzy mound, my forefinger at her erect clit, probing and feeling its blood-engorged warmth. When she stirred, I began a gentle massage of her juicy slit, and she purred with contentment as I brushed and petted her nether lips, spreading them and tickling her.
"What happened?" she asked, turning toward me, batting her eyelashes and kissing my neck.
"You took a little nap," I said, sliding the first joint of my middle finger into her and blowing her hair from her face as my palm circled gently over her hairy mound and my finger bent upward into a hook.
"Did we?" she asked shyly, trembling. "You know what I mean, did we do it?"
"Ten times," I said. "I can't believe you don't remember, all those different positions."
"Foo," she said, wriggling nicely, "we did not." Her hand crept down and found my soggy member, still long and fat but far from erect.
"Only two men, no two boys, have, well, I've only ... They were my age, cousins actually. Last summer we ... I can't tell you." She sniffed and turned away, obviously embarrassed.
I kissed her and slid my other hand up to cup her small breast, teasing her hard nipple with my thumb while she continued to hold my swelling pike, squeezing and releasing.
"What's that noise?" she asked after she had kissed me several times.
I listened and smiled and kissed her again, tweaking her tiny nipple between thumb and forefinger while her cunny squeezed my probing finger.
"That's your dear aunt and George or perhaps we are hearing your maid and young Michael. I'm not sure." The thumping and grunting was nearly continuous, like distant thunder, so it was probably George.
She looked at me wide-eyed, as if she were twelve instead of sixteen. "Doing what?" she said. Then she blinked, smiled and said, "Oh." She took the head of my warm ram into her palm. "Seriously," she said. "Did we do it?"
"Briefly," I said. "You seem to have fainted."
"I wonder why," she said, stroking the foreskin down my hardening shaft. "You'll have to do it again."
"Wouldn't you rather have Michael? He's much more your size." Her maid was a broad-beamed blonde I was eager to mount, much more my style.
"No," she said. "But I don't see how you could possible get this into me."
"I'll show you," I said, hooking an arm under one leg and rising to kneel before her sopping groin with its small mat of curly hair and pinkly quivering lips. I lifted the other leg onto my thigh, came forward on my knees and pushed the head of my jumping spear into her trembling slit with its pouting gateway, rosy depths and soggy fluids. She raised her head and stared down between her rounded mounds with their jutting tits and watched as if enchanted as the thick shaft slowly vanished, turning her lips inward and all but swallowing her hooded nubbin.
After a few bumps, I had found the proper entrance, and shoved hard. I moved at once into quick-march pace, gaining depth with every thrust, and she shook her head from side to side and moaned beneath me as the still growing spike split her open and devoured her, steadily disappearing into her clinging depths until our striving bodies were joined tightly, our hair entangled, pubic bones rubbing as my cock filled her entire slit, turning its outside inward. I rocked from side to side and slowed my pace after the first fifty or so.
I released her legs, and she wound them about me as her hips rose to meet every ram. Finally fully installed, I held my long bone solidly still and let her get used to the idea of being filled with a prick so grand and hot, its head battering at the tight entrance of her womb, its girth stretching her to the limit and beyond. By then we were well into the second hundred strokes.
She looked up at me as I arched above her, ready to begin my assault and touching only where my pike was buried in her. She spasmed. "I can't believe it," she gasped out as I wiggled my hips and slowly withdrew a few inches. "Don't, please don't."
Since I had come the first time, although she seemed unaware of it, I was sure I could last a lot longer this coupling so I began very slowly with long and steady withdrawals and fast, deep penetrations, each of which elicited a squeal and a shudder as she pushed against my chest, trying to extricate herself I suppose or at least delay the inevitable. At the end of each thrust, I held her up and remained fully extended until my root jerked and jumped another inch or so. I felt like I was about to push my hard ballocks into her. Her belly throbbed and her thighs tensed with every penetration, but she continued to sob out, "No, no, no, please, you mustn't."
After a score of those, I began a series by tens: ten fast, ten slow, ten deep, ten just inward, ten bluringly fast, ten barely moving, ten rotated right, ten left,, ten rocking from side to side, ten lifting and then ten more just as hard and deep as I could ram it, gritting my teeth and straining every muscle, tensing my buttocks, screwing it into her with two hundred pounds behind it. She climaxed twice during that long series, pounding on me as she did. But she stopped complaining and mewled in pleasure, absorbing all my efforts and moaning out a series of "yeses."
I felt my stones churning at about the time she spasmed for the third or fourth time, beating on the bed with her fists and feet and wailing for surcease, and when I finally came, probably after more than five hundred thrusts although I had long since lost count, her head and shoulders were well off the side of the bed, nearly touching the floor as I jolted and spewed into her, recoiling with each massive cannon shot. On I rogered with barely a pause, pushing us both off the bed. I extended my hands to the floor and eased us down as best I could, her legs still wrapped about me and my root still firmly engaged.
Happily buried in her tight quim and lubricated by our fluids, my overheated stake gloried in restored vigor, and I arched her up on her shoulders and began again as soon as her rump bounced off the rug. She unwound her legs and braced her feet as I held her hips and blasted deeply into her time after time, beating our pubic bones together, emptied but still somehow hard, jolting her like a ramming cannoneer. Once that spell of passion passed, I eased her down to the floor, rolled her over, held her to me and enjoyed her fully, my prod jerking and jumping like a mad thing as I rested on my back. She simply sobbed and wriggled, flat against me, but her hips kept pace with mine, whether she willed it or not.
I heard the door to her bedroom open and George say, "Sorry." The door closed, and the girl sat up on my loins, her hands on my belly.
"Sir," she said with a wide smile after she tossed back her hair and wiped her sweaty face. "Is this the best you can do?"
Gert
- 21.11.2022
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