STRANGER SEX | CHEATING
BAD GIRLS ARE HOT
And They’ll Fry Your Brain
Lane saw her his second morning on the job. He and his men were raising framed walls onto the poured foundation, struggling to hold them in place, when she appeared at the edge of the trees, staring. Blonde hair pulled loosely back with strands falling every way; blue work shirt tied beneath world-class tits; jeans cut off nearly to her crotch. She was there to be seen and waited long enough to make sure she’d gotten her way.
“Hey, boss! Look alive!” Sven, his foreman, noticed his distraction, never a good thing on a construction site.
When he looked back, she was gone. Sven clapped him on the back. “Easy, boss. She’s trouble, that one.”
“You know her?”
“Don’t need to. You neither. You know what I’m saying?”
Lane nodded. He knew. That’s why her fleeting image had clamped onto his thoughts like a crazed dog on a bone. It was more than tits and a face and a body. Like Sven said, it was the trouble. She glowed with it. Danger was hot.
They saw her again at lunch time. They’d driven Lane’s truck up to the hamburger shack; while they waited for their orders, she walked in, passing by them like they were invisible. The cook behind the counter said to her, “Why the hell you come to work dressed like that, Jenny Sue?”
“Ain’t working today. Little Jody’s with the fever. I got to care for him.”
She’d looked good from afar; close up she’d turn a man’s brain to mush. The curve of her ass cheeks peeked out under her shorts, her shirt opened on a healthy expanse of ripe cleavage and her hair was mussed just enough to look like she’d been fucking.
A counter display held an assortment of lollipops. She pulled one off, unwrapped it and stuck it in her mouth. “Gotta go,” she said. “Need some aspirin from the drug store.”
She turned and now she looked straight at Lane, sucking all the while on that damned lollipop. “You boys worked up a good sweat this morning.”
Sven laughed. “That’s why they pay us, ma’am.”
She kept her eyes on Lane. “I like men sweatin.’” Then she floated out the door like smoke. Her perfume scent hovered in place, giving Lane something else to be hungry for.
Sven said, “You in her crosshairs, boss. I told you. She gonna shoot you outta the sky.”
Lane chewed on that. Then: “Be a helluva trip down.”
Third time he saw her, he was heading home. She was standing by a picnic area, hitching with her thumb out. She had another lollipop in her mouth.
As Lane pulled in and parked, a dozen or so voices vied for attention in his head. The Reverend Johnson was there; his momma too, and his daddy, to say nothing of his wife, Marjorie. Kind of hard to ignore all that advice flying at you, but soon as she opened the door and slid in next to him, it got a lot easier.
“Going to Brewton?” she asked.
“Near. I can drop you.”
Then he just stared at her. She stared back, kind of smiling. She finally cocked her head a little. “You got something on your mind?”
“Nothing you ain’t worked damn hard putting there.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, mister.”
He grabbed her arm. “Horseshit. What kind of game you playing?”
She pulled back, but just a little. She was breathing hard. Hard as his cock. “Ain’t a game.” Then she shifted a little, turning more to him. She dropped her hand between her thighs and started rubbing. “Any idea what it’s like being married to an old man you hate?”
And then she was on him, smashing her lips against his, sticking her tongue down his mouth, running her hands under his shirt.
Lane’s cock was already drooling, but he made one last effort towards doing the right thing.
“I can’t do this, lady. I’m married.”
“Well, aren’t you a dumb-ass? I don’t want to marry you. I want you to fuck me.”
And then one hand was on his crotch and the other guided him to her tits. After that, didn’t much matter what he thought. What mattered was that she’d fished his cock out into the open and was letting her fingers dance over the head, down the shaft, back up again, always in motion, tickling him into a frenzy.
Now he pulled her to him hard. She rose up on her knees and he unfastened her cut-offs. They both had to work a bit, peeling them over her ass and down her long legs, but there wasn’t anything underneath except a naked pussy, neatly shaved, hot and slick. Lane slammed his hand up against it and closed around her lips, pulling on them; he then slipped a finger between and began working on her clit. It was swollen and hard.
She seemed suspended in her own time and place, one only coincidentally overlapping his own—eyes closed, lips parted, jagged breathing punctuated by each stroke of his fingertip. Lane watched in a trance as her body moved to its own internal rhythms. He’d never had such a creature in his hands. He wanted to preserve the moment as long as possible.
Finally, she rose up, straddled him and lowered herself till his cock touched her lips. She gripped it and slid the tip up and down through her wet flesh, using it like a cudgel against her, slapping her clit with it again and again, letting fierce moans escape with each blow. Then, finally, she placed him just inside, lips wrapping around the head, beckoning him inward.
As he followed the only way forward, she suddenly cast a dubious eye his way. “You ain’t gonna go popping on me soon as you’re tucked up inside, are you?”
He smacked her ass, three hard ones to each cheek, then started pushing her down on him. “You here to fuck, or bitch?”
Then his cock filled her and she collapsed on him.
And now she took control, simply through the sheer force of her desire. Lane found nothing required of him except to lean back and let her grind on his cock for her own pleasure. She pressed her hips into his, coaxing him to probe her deepest depths, wrapping his cock in exquisite, wet warmth. Then she pulled back up, almost letting him slip out. But not quite. Keeping his cockhead just inside her, she gently rocked back and forth, massaging herself with him, all the while edging closer and closer to the precipice, pacing herself, knowing when to hold back, when to push further.
She was mesmerizing to watch. For his part, Lane simply wanted to avoid “popping off” on her. He’d never experienced a woman so transformed by the passions within her. What had been a careful pose of oversexed flirting now found full expression in near violent lust. She slammed herself down on him, and this time Lane thrust up to meet her. Rising back, she impaled herself on him again. And again — hard, fast, with a blinding intensity, each thrust matched by Lane’s in response. He knew he was close — hell, he’d been close all day — but even though his balls were filled to overflowing, he managed to hold off until the first sounds of orgasm ripped from her throat. Unearthly sounds. A long cry seemingly from some place utterly alien. And in that wail, Lane heard her entire story in a single moment.
Once begun, she couldn’t stop coming, couldn’t get enough of him, lost as she was in her own private madness, in her craving for more and more of his cock.
Now Lane finally let himself fall into that dark pool and immerse himself in the energy waves radiating off her skin. He felt it building, the loss of control, that moment of an endless present, beyond words, past thought, starting in his balls, then quickly seizing his whole body and mind in a single, paralyzing spasm. Did he cry out? Probably. How could he not have? He was aware only of the pulsing contractions at the base of his cock as his cum began shooting into her. At some point he realized he was unloading more jism than he could ever remember producing. Spurt after spurt, each one a cleansing flame draining all tension, all doubt, all frustration.
Now she spoke. “God yeah, fill me. Don’t stop.”
Truth was, he couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. Though his balls were finally emptying out, his cock showed no sign of wilting; nor did she show any signs of exhaustion. She kept at him, working him with her cunt.
“Damn, look at you. You’re gonna come again, ain’t you? I’m gonna make you come again,” she said. “Do it. Do it again for me.”
She pulled herself off him, gazed wonderingly at Lane’s still hard shaft, at the glistening sheen of cum blended with cunt juice that glazed its surface. She took him in her mouth and teased it up and down with her tongue as she pushed his entire length to the back of her throat. That’s when Lane knew he’d definitely be able come again for her, as that familiar urgency took over.
He grabbed a fistful of her hair, worked her on him like she was a fuck toy. Her mouth was open and willing; her hands pawed at her cunt, keeping her own juices flowing. And now, Lane knew he was going to explode. This time, it was long and deep as he reached down into the depths for whatever was left for him to give. As he started spurting, he pulled her head back and unloaded on her lips and cheek, dumping more of the sticky goo on her than he’d have thought possible. When at last he was empty, he squeegeed the white globs with his finger towards her waiting mouth. She licked it clean and swallowed everything. Then she fell against his chest and he put an arm around her, saying nothing. They lay like that as the outer world slowly reasserted itself.
“You fuck pretty good, for an old guy,” she said, snuggling closer. “I might want to do this again.”
At that, all those voices in his head that he’d managed to smother came racing back, full volume.
“Yeah… well that could be a problem.” His world had changed, but he wasn’t quite ready to recognize that fact.
She giggled, then took his balls in her hand and gently played with them.
“You sure about that? You seem like the kind of guy who knows how to solve problems.” She kissed him. “You sure knew how to deal with me.”
Lane said nothing, just let her play with him, and he idly wondered how he’d managed to take a left turn into this strange new world. He didn’t belong here. Nothing seemed to fit. But as her hand moved from his balls to his cock and he reached for her tits, it occurred to him that she already had him figured out. He was a guy who solved problems.
