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The Story of C
C entered my life one day when I was out for a walk. It was an autumn day, and leaves rustled knee-deep on the streets. It was mid- afternoon, which meant the sun was vanishing amid smoky gray clouds and the smell of burning wood was in the air. In this gray world, I stopped at a convenience store to buy a soda, and there she was in the dairy aisle. I'd stopped into the store more out of desire for its cozy lights than out of thirst. In particular, I didn't want to take my eyes off the blue and red neon beer signs because some receptor in my brain associated that with warmth and everything that was opposite the gray, dreary New England November and the light of a failing day, the failing light.
She was tall, not as much so as B, and shapely. That wasn't immediately evident since she wore a heavy black coat, jeans, sweater, wool cap with light brown hair sticking out. She trailed a long scarf as she walked to the counter with her milk and a few cans of food. We had a brief brush at the counter. Each would let the other go first. I won, and she went first. Her eyes gave me a long, lingering look and she smiled invitingly as she left the store. I paid for my cola and was on the sidewalk seconds behind her. "Hi," I said.
"Hello," she said. She was fumbling with her car keys, and I rushed to hold her groceries while she unlocked her car. She thanked me and put the groceries inside. I had to think fast. On the back seat of this great big old black car was a book. "Have you read his other books?" I asked—anything to keep kindle conversation. She smiled. "Yes, I think I have read" (she scratched her head and laughed) "all of them. Now have I? Am I missing any? Do you know what they all are?"
"How about joining me for a cup of fancy Java tea down the road at that little place, and we'll make a list together?"
She gave a little shrug. "Okay, that would be nice." She stuck out a hand in a pink mitten. "I'm C."
"I'm Peter," I said. "I was out for a walk. Can I ride with you?" And that's how it went. We had a very pleasant tea in a kind of boutique where people in scarves came and went. There were barrels of oats and other seed things, plus groceries and flowers, and a small section of books and magazines. C liked to read and was impressed with my poetry, so we lingered over the books a while. She was single, and lonely, so we agreed to wander to her place. She lived in a cozy little apartment behind a larger house, but she had her own driveway and privacy. She was an accountant, a very bright lady with much patience and a good head for numbers. We spent a pleasant hour or two, until it was time to make dinner. We ate lightly, and then watched a movie. Somewhat later, she was very close on the couch and I kissed her. She was not very aggressive, but her breathing changed and I sensed that she wanted to be loved. "Why don't you spend the night?" she suggested. Taking our time, kissing, petting, we slowly undressed each other. Even in the near dark (lit only by stray light from the living room beyond a half-closed door, and by a night light in the bathroom nearby), I marveled at the smoothness of her skin and the perfect form of her limbs. Here was a treasure that had been concealed in modesty and heavy clothing. She was transformed from a gentle, easy going doe into a hard-breathing, hungry forest animal. She pawed my back and my ribs. She planted kisses in my ear so that I felt the heat and moisture of her sharp breaths. We lay side by side as we kissed, deep penetrating kisses, plunging wet tongues like sea animals rubbing together in the deep.
Her breasts were full and pleasant, with large plum-colored nipples. They hung slightly in their fullness. As I sucked on her nipples, I had my fingers in her. Her quim was so wet with desire that when I moved my fingers around, faint little wet sounds smacked in the quiet air around us. It turned me on further. She giggled with embarrassment, but not for long, because I could feel the hard little bud of her clitoris against my finger, and I rubbed gently the damp, smooth furrows on either side.
The little clit swelled and pressed against my finger seeking my touch. C was intent on that clitoris pressure, and seemed to be moving her body around as if tracking the fingertip she at first desired, then needed. I moved my fingertip down under it, and C moaned under me. I rubbed two fingers up and down, one on either side of her clitoris, capturing it between my fingertips on each swing and exerting a tiny amount of pressure that made C writhe and thrash her feet on the sheets.
She gripped one of my upper arms with one hand, while her other hand held my balls and with one finger she stroked the shaft of my penis until I too was ready to thrash. I knelt closer, offering myself to her hand, and she cupped my balls in both hands while she took my penis into her mouth. We worked our passion up to white heat, and it was clear we could wait no longer. Then she did a strange thing.
I lay beside her getting ready to enter, when she pushed me away and turned her back to me. She lay breasts-down and reached behind to grasp my arm and pull me toward her. "Come in me," she whispered, "behind."
"From behind?" I whispered in puzzlement into her ear as I lay behind her, slightly over her, with my finger still in the wetness. She shrugged and pushed her hand down so that her fingers rose up to cover the pink cleft. She made a sniffling noise.
"What's wrong?" I asked. I sat back and beheld the breathtaking sweep of her body—her long back and waist, and the fine melon-like widening of her buttocks. It was like looking at a painting. She extended her free hand behind her to pull on one cheek so that it parted from the other, revealing a fine dark pucker. "You want me to come into your butt hole?" I said. My cock longed to plunge into the other pool, but maybe she had some reason... She did have a fine bum hole, and I regarded it with pounding heart. She still covered her cunt with delicate beige fingers, and held open the back door with the other hand. But she had begun gently sobbing, and when I saw tears on her cheeks I embraced her from behind, spooned her, held her tight and close. "I don't want to do anything you don't want me to do," I said.
It took me a good half hour to coax the terrible secret out of her. I was amazed that she would have such a complex about so insignificant a thing. She had what might delicately be termed the opposite of a tight cunt. I suppose that makes it a loose cunt. In other words, she'd had a few bad experiences starting when she'd lost her virginity in college. One or two gruff, indelicate college boys had somehow hurt her feelings. She explained: "I had no idea what it was all about, why I didn't feel much down there, and then I got it from a girlfriend who had overheard the two boys, jocks from the varsity swim team, talking locker room talk.
They'd been talking about tight cunts versus loose cunts, and mentioned her name. Poor C had nearly died in mortification at her own indiscretion in dating two boys from the same fraternity house. She'd thought about leaving that university entirely to attend another, but decided to tough it out. She never went near the part of campus where these two lived. Later, her husband had started giving her a hard time about it before dumping her for a younger woman—with a squeaky tight cunt, no doubt.
"So that's what it's all about," I whispered in her ear while she burst out crying. "Baby, baby, baby..." I repeated while rocking her gently back and forth. In ten minutes her sobs had turned into hard, heated breaths. "Let me show you something," I said. "Baby," I said again, to coddle her as I gently rolled her onto her back and hovered over her. "Baby," I said while I grasped my cock and moved it toward her. She regarded me like a starving wolf with white eyes as I slid the head of my cock into her vagina. Yes, it went in easy and there was little friction in the extreme wetness of her desire. She repeatedly raised her head to kiss my nipples. She kissed my nipples in short nips before falling back helpless with moans, to gather her strength and suck my nipples again. I said: "Your little cunt is just fine with me, but to make you feel better, let's do this." I placed my knees outside her thighs, so that the strength of my legs pressed her thighs together. She massaged her breasts with one hand while reaching down to briskly massage her clitoris. She breathed: "Can you feel anything?"
"Oh yes," I said. Her cunt was tight around my thick dick, with the meat of her thighs pressing firmly inward from both sides. "I can feel it, baby. It feels great."
"Oh thank you." She came in a cascade of jerking motions—the first time of several that night. Later, I rolled her over and stuck my dick into her cunt from behind, same thing, with my knees pressing inward against her thighs. We also invented a position in which she sat on top of me with my dick inside of her.
She faced toward my feet, and wrapped her arms around her knees to keep them together, which made her lower legs point away. As she leaned back a bit, I wrapped my arms around her thighs so that her pussy was squeezed together around my cock. She was light, and I was able to rock her back and forth until we both came again. She got up, walked to a dresser, and returned with an object she kept hidden in the back of her underwear drawer among pink and blue, green and yellow silk undies. "What is that?" I said.
"You don't have to try it if you don't want to," she said in that gentle way she had. I laughed, and she laughed too. I was careful not to embarrass her, because she was very sensitive in this matter. "It's a strap-on that I bought years ago for my husband, thinking it might save our marriage." I rose and embraced her. "Sweetheart, what was wrong with your marriage wasn't the looseness of your cunt. It was the looseness of his brain cells." We both laughed. She walked into the bathroom with this huge, imposing thing.
I followed, palming the cheeks of her butt. She padded nakedly to the sink and ran warm water. This thing she held was all black, and had straps to go around a man or woman's waist. It was an ingenious solution to a perplexing problem. She said matter of factly with dry humor: "It's not a dildo for lezzies or anything. I found this in a catalog and ordered it by mail. It is specifically designed to solve the problem of loose, wet cunts." She showed me the tunnel that would contain my dong, and the little spigot on one side to fill the tube with hot water. "Makes it feel like you have a tight cuntie around you, while you are ramming me and I actually get to feel like I'm tight."
"Does it work for you?" I asked while she knelt and strapped it on.
"I have no idea," she said. "He refused to try it." She lubricated my head thoroughly with spit. She dribbled spit into the tunnel for good measure, a lot of it, until it was gooey. I thought it was going to feel nasty putting it in there, but it was warm and moist, a pleasant feeling. Not as pleasant as her cunt itself, but my dong was so vibrant from all the sex we had already had that this was just a sort of dessert. "Take me," she ordered, as she climbed onto the bed and waited for me on her hands and knees. The rubber was surprisingly light as I walked toward her holding it in both hands. My dick felt cozy inside. "Do you need some cream or something?" I asked.
"No, can you feel how wet I am? Turn me on. Spit in me."
I knelt at the foot of the bed, savoring her rear with my eyes. I ran my palms over the curves of her butt cheeks. I rubbed her clit with my fingertip. I used both fingertips to part her cunt lips slightly, and I spit into the pinkness. Her fingers slid down, this time not to close her cunt to me, but to rub her clitoris while I spat into her. "Am I dribbling yet?" she asked.
"Any moment now," I said, and just then a fine thread of silvery spit dribbled out of her hole and over her clit and down onto the bed. She had a fine little light brown bush, and it got full of spit. She slid two fingers into herself, then pulled the fingers out and put them in her mouth to taste both my spit and her cunt juice.
"Baby," I whispered. My cock was hard as a rock inside the firm cuntie tube. She said: "Ram me. Go on. Ram me. Stuff it in me and slam me."
I rose and moved toward her. She helped guide the thing into her hole, and then cried and sobbed loudly as I grasped the fine china points of her hips like jar handles and slammed her repeatedly against my groin. "Does it hurt?" I asked at one point, and she just managed to swallow hard, saying "No, feels good, ram me, ram me!" The popping noise of her soft buttocks slamming against my hard, flat stomach and groin filled the air. It was a wet, soft, flopping sound that kept on with machine-like determination. Her knuckles grew white as she gripped the tangled sheets around her.
"Turn," I said. She swung one leg almost over my head and pushed herself down toward the edge of the bed. Still standing, I fucked her while holding her waist. Then I crawled up on the bed, pushing her ahead of me, so that she swung her lower legs onto my shoulders. She pulled me up over her so that she could tongue my nipples while I kept flopping her. She had one huge, final climax as the dark shaft shot back and forth inside her. We took off the engine and I came inside her one more time for good measure. Then we lay exhaustedly side by side.
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