Samesex/lesnurse
                                          Lesbian Nurse
                                             Chapter 1
           I moved to Guildford two years ago; John was transferred and I had to leave my
           job as a secretary for Colson's, a wine importer back in Warminster.  I had no
           real qualifications, but we needed the money from both of us working - and I 
             was getting bored fixing up the new house and window-shopping in the town 
           centre.  Eventually John bought up my old nursing qualification - It'd already
           occurred to me, but I wasn't sure that it was what I wanted now.  I'd drifted 
            into the classes at 16, with nothing else to do, and passed the qualifiying 
           exams, then after half-heartedly applying for a couple of local posts thrown 
                     it all up and worked for Colson's for four stagnant years.
           John thought it was a great idea.  "Give them a call tomorrow, love", he said,
            nestled under my arm as we lay in bed that night.  His hands were wandering 
           about in their familiar and welcome pre-sex rounds; I lay back, relaxed as he 
              gently turned me on, stroking the outline of my thighs, the curve of my 
            bottom, my stomach.  I saw him looking at my nipples under my T shirt - he 
             knows how sensitive they are, what they do to me - and I felt the melting 
           begin in my tummy as he pulled the T shirt up to my shoulders and sucked the 
            nearest erect nipple between his warm lips, tweaking the other between the 
              outside of his index and middle fingers.  I lay there passively, as his 
             suction drove pleasure throughout my body, radiating from my nipples, my 
            breath deepening.  He lay on his side at my side, now, and I could feel the 
           heat of his cock throbbing against the cool, smooth skin of my thigh.  It felt
            bigger than its seven inches (I've measured it for him!), hot and blunt; I 
             couldn't stop my bottom shifting in the bed of its own accord to turn and 
           press my thighs against it, my breasts against his lightly-haried chest.  Now 
            I felt my usual urgent need to be taken by him, to be overwhelmed; my open 
           mouth found his and our tongues talked and chattered.  His large hands ranged 
           down over my bottom, first pressing it down to push my delta gainst his stiff 
             tool, then to part the globes with his palms while running his forefinger 
           lightly over my anus, then down, gently, to make small, gentle circles at the 
           now sticky bottom of my vagina while his other hand tweaked a nipple sharply.
           He shifted, pushing me on my back and rising - I opened my legs to him, held 
            out my arms for him as he positioned himself above me - in the half-light I 
           could see the outlines of his cock as it rose past his navel.  I would have it
           - in me - now!  At the thought I felt an unbearable sticky itch within me that
            only his cock could scratch, I murmured, "Fuck your cock in me, Fuck me!"  
           With one hand he forced it down, pushed the plump head up and down in my slick
           entrance, pressed on the hood over my clitoris, then, as if tiring of teasing 
            me, he manouvered his stiff, vein-ribbed dong, it was stiff, stiff, to the 
           inner channel, then quickly, smoothly, pushed it all, all of the stiff, in my 
                                         hot, oily tunnel.
           Breath whooshed from me as he entered; the feel of the full length of John's 
           cock stretching me comfortably and juicily made me woozy with pleasure: before
             I recovered I felt the brief intimate slap of his balls against my smooth 
            bottom-cheeks and his hand pulling at my left nipple again.  The sensations 
            overwhelmed me, rode me up my pleasure, too many to keep track of.  I could 
           feel all his veins in his cock as it pressed in, the pleasure-pain in my soft 
             breasts, his weight forcing me, taking me, the butterball heat-itch in my 
           middle being scratched with his slick, blunt fuck-tool.  I gasped out, my hair
              dischevelled, my hands at his chest, my legs wrapped around his bottom, 
           looking in his eyes as he pounded me now, a thin sweat on his muscular body - 
           bigger than me, taking me - his thickness stove in and out, moving my pleasure
                                     on, closer to blotting me.
           "Cocksucker!" John said to me distractedly, his breath ragged, "Fuck-Bitch".  
              I could see he was approaching his orgasm, and I needed mine - I pushed 
             against him with my thighs, now, and his enraged cock thrust in a little 
           deeper, he slapped against me, and again - my pleasure neared its peak as his 
           thrusts became deeper, longer, His frantic fingers pinched my nipple hard and 
           pulled up on it with a sharp pain - I surrendered to the body-filling waves of
              ecstacy.  "Cunt, Cunt!", his breath gasped from him now, and finally he 
            pressed into me with all his body, and even in my daze of sensations I felt 
             his spunk jet out from his iron cock, into me, filling me, his cock still 
           filling my channel, so full!  I held him to me, savouring the completeness, my
                                        vacant cunt filled.
           Finally he shrunk, panting, and his heated body cleaved off from our mingled 
             sweat and clumped down beside me.  Tendrils of pleasure sang me to sleep.
                                             Chapter 2
           Guildford General did have a vacancy for a qualified Staff Nurse, in fact for 
           two of them.  An interview was arranged for the following friday with the ward
            sister, Angela Leighton, just after lunch.  The receptionist told me they'd 
             had dozens of enquiries from an advert in a local paper, so my hopes were 
                                            pretty grim.
           I wasted half an hour trying on various outfits - I settled on a medium-length
             wollen skirt with a businesslike creme silk chemise, without the bra - I 
                    didn't want them to think I was some old fogey, or whatever.
            When I turned up - a little early - I was shown into her little office, and 
             took a seat nervously.  Angela wasn't there yet, so I sat quietly with my 
           hands in my lap and tried to think of something else.  Muted chatter and the 
           clink and rumble of trolleys outside the open door lulled me, and I relaxed a 
           little.  After a few minutes a nurse in her early thirties with her blond hair
           tied severely back stepped through the door with a sheaf of folders.  "Are you
            Wendy Stanton?"  I nodded and rose, "Hello, " she said, with a smile, "I'm 
           Angela Leighton - Anglea, alright?"  I smiled back.  She sat down and leafed 
            through a pile of folders already on her desk.  "Right - If I can just get 
                this form...OK. "  She pulled a pen from her breast pocket.  "OK.  
           Wendy...Stanton... - what's your address, Wendy?"  I told her and she copied 
           it down.  "Right - Erm, Female, no, no, yes, erm... twenty-fifth.".  She went 
             on with questions about my qualifications and school history.  We covered 
           previous employers, then she rose and shut the door, and sat down again.  "OK,
             Wendy, that's, erm, so far, so good.  Now I have to ask you some personal 
              questions, do you mind?"  I said whatever was necessary was fine by me.
           "OK."  She ferreted out a clean sheet of paper and put the form to one side.  
            "When was your first sexual experience?"  Well, this took me by surprise a 
           little.  " Do you mean masturbation, or real intercourse?"  I asked.  "Well, 
            masturbation counts, I guess," she said, with a gleam in her eyes.  "When I 
           was fourteen, then," I said.  She made notes on the paper.  "Was that when you
            were alone, or .. mutual masturbation?"  At this a brief flash of memory of 
               Claire flashed by, dislodging more feelings with it than it ought to.
             "Actually, it was with my best friend at the time.", I said in a sort of 
                                       impulsive confidence.
                                          "A Girl, then?"
           "Yes, " I said, reddening and wishing I hadn't been so honest.  Anglea gave no
                                     signs and made more notes.
              "What is your sexual preference at the present time?", Angela looked me 
           straight in the eyes across the desk as she asked.  "I can't believe this is 
                                        relevant, " I began.
           "I know it seems that way, " said Anglea in a warm tone, "but trust me, Wendy,
           it's very relevant to this job.  But if you don't want to say..." she let it 
           hang.  "Heterosexual.", I said.  "Exclusively Heterosexual."  I added.  Angela
           nodded sagely and gave me an appraising look that covered most of my body.  I 
           looked down in confusion to see my nipples erect through the silk chemise.  I 
           blushed and looked in the corner.  Angela coughed and the questions turned to 
                               my history of diseases and allergies.
           Finally, she finished and we both rose.  She gave me a warm smile.  "I think 
           you've done very well, Wendy; we'll be in touch."  I felt her eyes on my body 
            as I left.  Were those questions for real, or was she some kind of lesbian?
                                           Chapter Three
            The 'phone rang on Tuesday morning - it was Angela herself.  "Hello Wendy!  
             I'm very pleased to say that we've selected you for one of the positions!"
                        "That's great," I said, pleased.  "When do I start?"
           "Sooner the better, I think, " said Anglea.  "Why don't you come to my house 
                  this evening and I'll take you through an idea of your duties?"
            She gave me directions and her number in case I got lost, and I said I'd be 
            there for nine.  I had a long bath that afternoon, and in the middle of it 
            remembered that John was working late tonight.  I wrapped a towel around me 
           and called Angela at the Hospital to ask if she'd mind picking me up, although
            John'd probably be back by the time we'd finished and could drive me back.  
           She was only the other side of town, anyhow.  "No problem, Wendy, No problem",
                she replied, "See you at nine.  I'm really looking forward to it.".
           Jeez, what did that mean?  I was beginning to wonder if Angela was a Lesbian, 
            and she fancied me.  All those questions!  What did I feel about that?  It 
             reminded me of Claire; but that was a long time ago, now.  Somehow in my 
           mind's eye my image of Claire seemed to be wearing starch, white linen, now.  
                            I gave a little shiver and finished my bath.
           I spent the next couple of hours lounging around, getting dinner and watching 
            TV, surprising myself a little with my growing restlessness.  I settled on 
            jeans and a T-shirt, and after some indecision, decided on a bra.  As nine 
           O'Clock approached, I grew steadily more nervous, and had a glass of wine from
                               out of the fridge to calm myself down.
              The doorbell rang at five to nine - Angela stood there in her uniform.  
            "You're Ready?" she asked, with her warm smile.  I told her I was, shut the 
                                door and we both walked to her car.
             "I hope it's not too late for you, tonight - it's just it's the end of my 
           shift at 8:30" she said, once we were underway.  I told her it was fine, and 
            that anyway, I needed the job badly.  We made small talk, and eventually we 
           pulled up at her block of flats.  She parked the car, and we got out into an 
            awkward silence.  She led the way to her flat, unlocked the door.  It was a 
              cosy flat, with rugs on the floor and hung on the walls, ornaments and 
           nick-nacks everywhere.  "Make yourself at home," said Angela, and went off to 
              make some tea.  I made for the sofa and looked around while Anglea made 
           tea-making noises in the kitchen.  She had some photographs framed sitting on 
           a dresser - there was a couple of a little boy, as a young baby, then at two 
           or so, then one of Angela with a younger black-haired girl, standing in front 
            of a tree sheilding their eyes from the sun, and - my eyes must have bugged 
           out - one of Angela and the black haired girl kissing.  I looked away, just in
           time to collect my tea from Angela - she must have seen me looking, but said 
                                              nothing.
            "OK, " said Angela, and she began to take me through the shift times, and a 
             quick idea of who I would be working with.  I was half listening to her.  
             Running through my mind like a stuck record was "Angela licks cunts".  I 
           stared at her lips as she spoke, unable to not imagine them pushed against a 
           moist cunt, her nose buried in the pubes.  "Are you free tomorrow afternoon?  
                 I'll show you around the ward, and introduce you."  I said I was.
           "Angela,"  I said, hesitantly.  She gave me her full attention with her green 
                                 eyes.  "Can I ask you a question?"
              She said nothing in a way that was an assent.  "Are you... erm, do you 
                         prefer... other women?"  I croaked out, redenning.
            "You mean, 'Am I a Lesbian'?  What made you ask that," she said in an even 
                                     tone, giving nothing away.
             "Well, the questions you asked at the interview, and, the... picture over 
           there...", I indicated, and ground into an embarassed silence.  "I'm sorry, " 
                                     I began, "I shouldn't..."
            "Yes, " she said, cutting me short.  "I am a Lesbian.  Women turn me on, I 
            love women.  I don't hate men, just prefer women.  By a good margin."  She 
             looked me steadily in the eyes, I guess I gaped back at her.  There was a 
                                    silence built of cast iron.
                                             Chapter 4
             "I'm not going to jump on you," she said finally, with her calm smile; I 
           laughed nervously.  "Look, do you want to go? " she asked, in a way indicating
            she would understand, wouldn't be offended.  "No, No," I insisted, "I just 
             wanted to know."  The silence grew out again, my hand fidgeted in my lap.
           "Wow, you look stressed out!" she exclaimed with a laugh.  I smiled nervously 
            up at her.  "Since you're staying, would you like something a bit stronger 
           than tea to calm you down?  Bacardi, Martini...?"  I was aware we were heading
           into dangerous territory here, but an ambivilence urged me on.  "Yes, please!"
           I said.  She smiled at me and made me a Martini and lemonade - I accepted it 
           and gulped half of it down.  "Who is your friend in the photgraph?"  I asked.
             "That's Melanie - I guess you'd have to call her my 'Lover'.  We've being 
                going steady for three years, now.  We don't live together, though."
             "Oh."  I said.  Angela eased herself beside me, at the oppsite end of the 
           three-seat sofa.  She had been sitting in the Armchair across from me.  "Can I
           ask _you_ a question, now you've satisfied your curiosity," she said, looking 
                     mischevious.  I said OK, and took another gulp of Martini.
           "How did you and your friend get together that time when you were fourteen?"  
           She certainly hadn't forgotten anything about our interview!  She must fancy 
           me, that's why she invited me over here, she wants to.. she wants to fuck me, 
            I thought, and my eyes glanced over her breasts.  She noticed my attention, 
                                   and now her eyes were bright.
           "Her name was Claire - she was a year older than me, much more confident than 
            I was.  She - she made me do things."  She had mastered me; I had been her 
           slave.  She had teased me with her too-perfect blonde body until I begged to 
           lick her perfect little sixteen-year-old cunt for her, tears in my eyes.  She 
            never cared for me, and finished with me in two weeks, before moving on to 
           greater victories; I was like some kind of warm up for her.  The last I heard 
                  of her, she was high up in a famous woman's magazine in London.
             "She made you just masturbate her?  Did she make you do anything else?"  
             Angela had edged closer on the sofa.

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  I felt a familiar warmth between my 
           legs; I shivered.  I couldn't look Angela in the eyes, somehow,  "She made me,
           you know, do cunnilingus on her," I stammered out.  I glanced in her eyes, she
           was beside me now.  She looked magnificent, strong and confident, with me the 
            object of her attention, her prey; it was almost too much to smell her warm 
           perfume.  Her breasts jutted up at me, crowded me.  My nipples ached against 
           my bra cup, my insides began to melt.  "Did you... enjoy it?  Enjoy what she 
           made you do?  Did you like being made to lick her cunt?"  I stammered out some
            nonsense as I felt her cool hand cup the back of my neck.  "You like to be 
           made to do things, don't you?"  I glanced about like a frightened rabbit, but 
            her gaze transfixed me, and I stared my lostness into her green eyes as she 
              leant closer and brushed my parted lips with hers.  "Poor Darling," she 
            breathed, and stroked my hair.  "You want to lick my cunt, don't you?  Do I 
           make you wet?  Hmm?"  I couldn't have replied even if I knew what to say.  I 
           felt so turned on by her attentions, by not knowing what she would do to me, 
                  by her being in control, I was half out of my mind with desire.
            Her hand at the back of my neck gathered my hair and pulled down on it hard 
            enough to make me turn my face up.  "Put your tongue out,"  she commanded, 
           keeping up the tension on my hair.  I gazed at her, and peeped the tip out; it
              felt so secret between us, we both imagined it buried in her cunt.  She 
           laughed, and bent to kiss it, sucking hard on it.  "Lick my cunt, Hmm?  Lick 
            it?"  her warm breath spoke into my mouth, as I gasped back into hers.  She 
           released my hair, her hands were on my breasts now; she jerked the T shirt out
              of my jeans, reached inside and unhooked my bra.  My full breasts spilt 
           forward, to her hands, at first with my nipples burning into her palms, then 
             intense sensations swept me as she twisted my nipples roughly between her 
                                       thumb and forefingers.
           Abruptly she let me go, and held out her hands to help me up from the sofa.  I
           was in a state, my bra half-on, and half off, my T shirt rumpled.  She led me 
           by the hand into her bedroom, and sat me on her double bed.  The sheets were 
           cool under me.  "I... I..." I stuttered, but Angela was unzipping her nurse's 
            uniform.  She unhooked her bra, kicked off her shoes and her small breasts 
           bobbed free.  She quickly slid her skirt down, then her panties, revealing her
           carefully tended mound.  It was cut very short, and shaved at the sides.  She 
                                  was evidently a natural blonde.
           She stood in front of me, her hands in my hair again, pushing my face into her
           warm pubes.  "Lick my cunt, Wendy, put your tongue in.  I'm wet for you.  Lick
           me!"  She parted her thighs, and ground my willing face into her moist slit.  
            The dark, heady perfume of her juices filled my lungs, intoxicated me.  She 
           hunched forward, and I craned my head forward, then squeezed my tongue between
            her cuntlips, tasting her heat and moisture.  How sweet her moisture was!  
            With one hand she pressed my face into her mound, the other was busy at her 
             nipples, pulling them out and letting them snap back painfully.  "Oh, you 
           tongue me, you slut," she hissed, "you tongue-fuck my cunt."  She rocked her 
            thighs into my face.  My tongue pressed into her moist creases, tasting her 
                                        sweet fresh juices.
           Suddenly she pulled back, and tugged at my T shirt, pulling it up and over my 
             head.  I held out my arms meekly, staring at her breasts with their stiff 
           nipple-turrets, and she pulled it off, my breasts jiggling, my nipples taut.  
              As she leaned over me to undo my jeans, I craned up and caught a nipple 
           between my lips briefly, then lay back as she took off my jeans and jerked my 
            panties down.  She pushed me roughly over on my tummy, grabbed my hair with 
             one hand, and pulled it tight enough to hurt a little.  "Slut! " she said 
           loudly, and her open hand came down hard on my bottom with a loud smack.  It 
             stung and I cried out, muffled by the bedcovers.  "You want to tongue me, 
           Slut!  Say it!"  She smacked me again, harder.  "Say it to me!"  The burning 
                      in my bottom joined with the warmth in my tingling slit.
           "I..."  She pulled back harder on my hair, bringing my head off the bedcovers,
           smacked me again.  Tendrils of pleasure-pain felt around by body.  "I want to 
            tongue your cunt," I whispered.  And I did.  I adored her strength, the way 
            she dominated me.  I wanted to worship between her legs.  I felt her thumb 
           force its way between my exposed bottom-cheeks, and press in and out against 
                          my anus.  I was hot, hot.  I wanted to be taken.
           She roughly turned me over again, on my back, and straddled herself on top of 
             me.  She moved up until her breasts we above my face.  "Suck my titties, 
            Slave-Slut," she commanded from above me.  I reached up and caressed them, 
           then craned up and captured each nipple in turn, sucking the nipples hard, how
            I like it.  "Ooooh, feels good!" Angela gasped.  After a moment one of her 
           hands reached down to roll and tweak my left nipple painfully hard.  I raised 
           a knee and ground it into her behind, above me.  It felt hot and sticky.  We 
           continued this way for minute, then she raised herself, and bought her sweet 
             cunt over my face.  We stared into each other's eyes with lust and love.  
           "Tongue me, Slut?" she teased, her perfect blonde quim inches above my hungry 
           lips.  "Yes, yes," I husked.  Finally, she pressed her open thighs down on my 
           mouth.  Her hot, sticky moistness enveloped me, and I was glad.  I opened my 
           mouth so my top lip worked on her clitoris as I moved my head, while my tongue
                              pressed into her as far as it could go.
           She rocked on her kees above me, her hands reaching back to squeeze my breasts
             and brush my nipples.  My own cunt ached for her, now.  After a time her 
           movements became spasmodic on me, and she deserted my breasts.  I looked up to
            see her hands clamped on her own, her eyes closed, mouth parted.  My tongue 
             tasted sweeter juices deep inside her.  She was close.  I nibbled on her 
            clitoris, my hands wanton on her bottom-cheeks, moulding them, pressing her 
             into my face.  I wormed a finger between them, as she had done to me, and 
           pressed at her anus.  She gasped, above me, and her thighs jerked frantcally 
            on my face.  I moved to remove my finger, but a quick hand darted down and 
           pushed it back into place.  Her anus relaxed rythmically on my finger, but I 
                        kept up a gentle probing pressure with my fingertip.
           After a few moments, she collapsed on top of me, panting.  Her nipples burnt 
           into my breasts, and mine into hers.  Her mouth sought mine, and our tongues 
            entwined.  I knew she could taste her own juices from me.  Her leg slipped 
            between mine and at last her thigh squashed my pulpy slit, to my pleasure.  
           Her caressing hand trailed down my body, reached between my thighs.  She ran 
           her forefinger smoothly up and down my oily channel, slipping over my raised 
           clitoris and lightly into my vagina.  "Oooh, like that, Slut?" she breathed.  
           I ached to feel her within me.  "Fuck me, make me come!" I gasped.  Her smooth
           finger slicked up and down.  She leaned down and covered my mouth with hers.  
             My thighs parted wider and I quivered.  Her hand twisted - now her thumb 
            stroked horizontally across my clitoris, and her slick, oily finger wormed 
             confidently into my bottom.  I bucked as she pressed her fingetip into my 
           anus, but her weight held me down, and her tongue licked mine soothingly.  Her
           experienced finger slipped in, lubricated by my juices - it's itchy-burning in
            me connected with her thumb toying with my clitoris and I caught fire in my 
             bottom and in my cunt.  My hips jerked, my breath rushed in and out - her 
             finger slid in my anus all the way to its knuckle.  My back arched, and I 
           came, came in my cunt and in my bottom, like never before - my whole body was 
                                  alight, my tensed muscles sang.
            Sensing I was coming, Angela slid down my body, and replaced her thumb with 
            her tongue.  She splurged her hot tongue into my wet slit, and shifted her 
           head up and down so the whole surface of her broad, muscular tongue pressed up
              and down the inside of my cunt-lips.  Her finger in my bottom vibrated, 
                     tickling deep in my anal canal.  I came again, and again.
            Eventually she slipped her finger out of my bottom, and moved up the bed to 
           me.  As I lay there panting, she embraced me, kissed me tenderly and stroked 
            my hair.  We lay there, our legs entangled, each feeling the other's smooth 
            thigh against their soaked cunt.  I felt that she owned me, and I was proud.
                                             Chapter 5
           By the time I got back home that evening John was fast asleep in bed.  I had 
           cuddled up with Angela for a while after our experience, and she had reassured
             me about what we had done.  I was tired, but my mind was in a turmoil.  I 
                          sneaked into bed and dozed off, my mind blurred.
           I woke to feel a stiff cock pressed up between my bottom cheeks, it's hot head
           butting against my spine.  In my dreamy half-asleep state, last night merged 
           with now and I thought it was somehow Angela's prick, by some miracle.  John's
           familiar hairy legs put me right; I said nothing.  I lay on my side, with my 
             legs drawn up slightly, John behind me.  I ground my bottom against him, 
              feeling the dimensions of his cock as I moved against it, caught in my 
            bottom-groove.  I felt an itch in my bottom from last night with Angela.  I 
           reached out, swivelling on my bum so it pressed harder against him, and took 
           the bottle of hand cream from the bedside table.  John's big hands caressed my
           breasts as I relaxed back on the bed.  I splurted a gob of handcream out on to
           my hand, and reached around to take hold of his cock.  Still with my back to 
           him, I spread the hand-cream over his dick and ran my hand tightly up and down
             it, giving him a smooth, slow hand-job.  His breathing became ragged as I 
            worked.  Afetr a few moments I said, "Give me your hand."  He held out his 
           hand, and I pressed the handcream out on it.  "Put your finger in my bottom," 
           I said.  He hesitated, but I resumed my slow up-and-down motion on his stiff 
                         cock and his hand reached down between my cheeks.
              First he ran the side of his hand up and down between by bottom-cheeks, 
            spreading the hand cream in the groove, teasing my cunt at the end of every 
            stroke.  When it was all slick, his forefinger pressed against my anus, at 
               first softtly, then harder.  He wiggled his finger, and entered about 
           half-an-inch.  I shifted my bottom towards his hand, and continued to jerk him
           off slowly.  He took the hint and pressed in more.  Once he was partially in, 
            his whole finger slipped up there.  I had to let go of his cock - my other 
           hand was busy flicking and pressing at my clitoris, and I needed to squeeze my
           nipples real bad.  "I need your cock." I said to him.  "In there?" he asked, 
           wiggling his finger in my bottom.  "I want to be buggered" - the word spilled 
           out, how dirty it sounded! - buggered in my arsehole by his thick stiffpole.  
           I let out a small noise, my nipples tingled.  I wanted taking, the taking of 
           me.  He gently slipped his finger out, and reached over for more hand cream.  
           He pushed at my thigh to indicate I should take the doggy position, but it was
           not right; instead I turned on my back and stuffed a pillow under my back.  I 
                raised my legs in the air and gathered them in an arm.  My cunt and 
            bottom-hole were presented to him.  "No - like this -" I said " - I want to 
                                               see."
           He knelt in front of me, and presented his purple-headed tool against my tiny 
             button-hole.  He squeezed hand cream on it.  "Stop me if I hurt you, " he 
           said, looking at me.  I stared up at him, a magnificent sight, with that thick
           pole about to bugger me.  "Put it in me!" I groaned.  Heat and itchy burning 
           in my bottom was driving me wild.  He pushed the blunt weapon at my anus, it 
           felt good, huge, about to enter, but it wouldn't go in.  He reached down and 
            wiped the thick head up and down, up and down in my wet cunt - oh, so nice, 
             but I needed it - I needed - in my little hole, tickling there  - Angela 
                                               had...
           He slipped his dick down between my cunt lips until he was at my anus again, 
           and pressed once more.  I concentrated on what Angela has done last night, in 
                     my mind, and wiggled my bottom slightly as he pushed, and 
           it began to enter.  He eased it slowly in, until an inch or so was inside.  I 
           was stretched; it hurt a little.  He paused.  I used my muscles down there to 
             squeeze his hard thing.  "I want all your cock in me," I said.  Our eyes 
           locked.  I rested my upright legs against his shoulders and gripped his arms 
           with my hands.  I stared into his eyes.  "Bugger me, John, all of your cock, 
            oh you, big, big..."  As I gazed up at him, clutching his arms, he pressed 
           forward slowly but surely, until half his cock disappeared within my bottom.  
             I moaned out, impaled.  One of my hands left his arm and fingered my cunt 
           urgently - I was coming, coming on his stiff fuck.  "Fuck me!" I husked.  The 
           walls of my rectum must have been giving his cock a powerful massage - I could
              feel his shifting length in me, taking me.  He drew it back, pressed it 
              forward, further this time, I felt.  Again and again he drew it out and 
             pressed it in.  A pulsing pleasure started in my rectum in time with his 
           thrusts.  It grew - grew - I gripped his arm, it must have hurt him.  Its fire
           suddenly spread over my whole bottom and tummy - I came like never before, his
           cock in my bottom thrusting.  My jerkings and inner spasms were too much for 
            him, his stroke grew slower and stiffer, through my pleasure I saw his face 
              wild, sweat on his brow, as he thrust his cock in all the way.   He was 
           muttering, but I heard him, woozy though I was with pleasure, "Take that cock 
            - cock up your ass, boy, ass suck my cock"  His cock slammed in, his thighs 
            hard against mine, soft; this his last, a pause with a hoarse sniffle and I 
            could feel it pulse powerfully as he spurted, and the hot, wet slap of his 
           come coating my insides.  His tense body crouched panting over me as he came, 
              his body covering me.  His hands reached to my shoulders and his weight 
           pressed down on me, holding me trapped to him, an insolence of power to keep 
           me for his come, to make me, but I wanted to.  As I looked up at his body, my 
            fingers worked at my clitoris and pressed painfully at my nipples, tweaking 
            them hard until they slipped out from thumb and forefinger on the slippery 
                            hand-cream - I took more pleasure from him.
               Finally I was finished; the pleasure drained, his softening tool was 
           uncomfortable in my stretched anal canal.  I eased forward, away from him, and
           felt it slip back, and finally flop out with a warm wet drip of his come on my
           thigh.  His big hands reached around and cupped my breasts.  His juice leaked 
             slowly from my still-stretched bottom, wetting my back.  I felt detached, 
               completed, pleased but silent.  I had not forgotten the unguessed-at 
                                  perversity of what he had said.
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