Category: Sex Story Series
Published: Jul 11, 2014
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I napped most of yesterday afternoon, fatigue catching up on me unexpectedly. I worked my day shift today, and was hungry for chicken wing night. I was more than ready to move forward on my quest. Far from being tired or worn out from nine consecutive calendar days of sex, I felt as I did back when I was a young teen, the non-stop jerk-off year. Energy and excitement bounded through my veins. I felt an awakening. I was meant to do this. This could be a truly excellent, full time job.
Rico brought up the possibility of getting this onto to the net. We weren't quite sure how to do it, but Rico was sure there was money to be made.
Well, no matter to me. Paid or for free, this was too much fun. The great white huntsman was ready. The thrill of bagging the 'next one' was tingling through me. I could see the counter sitting at nine, itching to click over to ten.
Patience, Mr. Counter, patience.
Monday night always started with wings and draft. It was a tradition with us boys. Seven o'clock and the Four Amigos were dipping in. Donny dropped the big bomb on us. He fell. His Sunday efforts were in vain. His Saturday night conquest lasted well into the morning. In fact, the chick slept over. A major faux pas for a fuck stud. She took more out of Donny when he woke up. She didn't leave his place until dinner time, and our boy was beginning to falter. Sunday evening was the slowest night of the week. As the night began to shrink, things began to look bleak. Again, the specter of fat and ugly reared its head. Not worth it to Donny. He was toast.
Donny's post mortem showed my double up method was definitely the way to go. Congrats to me. Donny was an eight and out. Too bad. Only I would be carrying on. With nine holes completed, I was already the winner from our little group, but there was a long way to go.
Danny continued to hold the grudge. Simmering below the surface. Idiot. The Charlene deal was definitely off the table. Thank Christ I didn't tell him about it. A few more fucks with Charlene and I might get serious.
What a sacrifice it would be to hand Charlene over to Danny.
Should I do it
The big even up project
Should I turn it on again
Or leave it off
What to do
Bros before hoes.
One problem. I don't know if Danny would go for Charlene. He wouldn't admit it, but I think he was dating Susie again. Dating the chick that screwed one of his best friends, after refusing to screw him. Ouch. Danny's balls were shrinking. He needed my help to man him back up. Charlene might be the one to do it. Especially if I opened up to him about how amazing she was, and about how much I liked her.
The number ten swam back into my mind. Ten. The first double digit fuck. A milestone. The number the big white hunter was gunning for tonight.
I spotted number ten, sitting four tables over. Traci, a waitress from the country and western club, the Gin House, was enjoying a night off in a different bar. Party it up, girl. Traci was plain as day, her face was lucky to be a five. A six with makeup, which she was wearing tons of tonight.
After spending time with the ten known as Charlene, was I dropping to a six
Not quite, because Traci more than made up for the plain Jane face with the legendary mega rack and the tiny hips. She was wearing tan leather chaps, the official uniform of the Gin House, and the ever present cowboy boots. The boots made her three inches taller. After slumming with the dirty girls at Rico's house party, I was going to slum with super tits. I knew she was easy; in fact, two of the Amigos did her before. Who cares My plan was to spread the makeup all over her plain face and fuck her between those giant tits.
The 'I am interested in hooking up, I mean, fucking you' signals passed between my table and hers for the past hour. It was only eight o'clock and I was more than ready. As was she. When the boys moved over to shoot pool, Traci appeared at my table. The usual hellos and what are you up to and bam, we were out of there. Not a word was given to any of our tablemates. Off to the magic sex pad for me and the human rack. I needed to see these things in the flesh.
In the kitchen of my condo we drank beers. Drank them fast. It was easy to forget about Traci's face. Because up this close, she was smoking. The boots, the chaps, my hands were on her tiny hips in no time. We kissed and grabbed and my cock grew hard. I wondered how I was going to get her shirt off. It was tight, a second skin. I bent my head and went for her tits. Sucking at them, finding her hardening nipples through the material. Good girl, no bra. I guided Traci to a kitchen chair, then dropped to my knees. Sucking and licking at her protruding nipples. Her shirt was soaked by my efforts. I bet a lot of guys spent a lot of time on these wonders. I was no different.
She was reaching for my crotch, trying to work the zipper. I stood, found the bottom of her shirt and peeled it up and over her head. I stopped breathing.
The biggest, most perfect, most incredible tits in the world proudly jutted out from the dog face's chest. I dropped back down and began to worship these things. My hands, my mouth, my tongue, my teeth, everything was brought to bear on her glorious knockers. My cock was at full attention as I groveled on my knees. I thought of the sweet pheromones oozing from Charlene's pussy, and how I came while going down on her. The same thing might be happening with Traci's tits. This was amazing. This chick needed to be in Playboy. This chick needed to be on my shitty video camera system.
I pushed away and stood up, took her by the hand. Escorted her into the bedroom. We kissed, standing in front of my big bed. Traci pulled away as my hands got busy on her tits. She left the room, promising a surprise when she returned.
I would love chaps forever. Because when she returned, she was wearing only her chaps and her cowboy boots. Bare ass, bare pussy, bare tits. She slid onto the bed, back against the headboard. I crawled on, lasering for her knockers. Her nipples were bigger than the Meagan/Teagan duo's entire tits. I was sucking them again, getting lost in the sensation of being nursed. It would be nice to be a baby again.
I sucked and licked and nibbled and plastered those nipples with my saliva. The smell of pussy began to fill the room. The titty girl loved the titty work. I felt her hands on my shoulders, edging me down. I hoped her pussy was better looking than her face. I relinquished the pristine nipples and let her be the guide. Of course, she wanted the magic tongue. Who didn't
I followed the scent and the heat, my tongue leading the way. Wet and hot. On first contact, she began to squirm. Her orgasm was right behind. Strange moaning sounds left her mouth as she came hard and fast.
She began to squirt, an experience I was not familiar with. I was still learning new things, and it was only day ten. I opened my mouth and took her all. She face washed me with her soaked pussy, grinding hard.
Traci let go and collapsed back against the headboard. Her shoulders and tits and belly were soaked. I was glad I left the light on. The war paint was running all over, smearing and covering the plain mug, a true Halloween mask. I found it creepy and ugly and sexy at the same time. A woman with a fake face. A woman with a mask. Interesting.
I was able to get my pants and underwear off, freeing my groaning cock. I mounted her face, ready to return the oral favor. Rubbing my cock head all over, smearing the paint even more. Her lips trailed my cock, sucking for it, trying to get it into her mouth. Finally I let her have it, pushing my bell into her smeared yap. She sucked hard, wriggling beneath me. I pulled out of her mouth and aimed my cock at her wet tits. I slid into her tight cleavage, lubricating on her body sweat. My deeply colored cock looked incredible between her hard, milky tits.
I pushed in and out, slowly fucking her tits. I gasped to myself, as my cock disappeared completely, then reappeared, angry and redder every time. I found myself thrusting, Traci bending her head, trying to suck at my bell as it pushed upwards. I pulled my cock out and laid it across her tits. Ran my bell over her raw nipples. This brought more strange moaning sounds from the painted girl. The betraying twitch began in my balls. When I remembered, if I dump a load between her tits, it doesn't count. I needed to get this giant cock into her pussy. Now.
Another good idea popped into my head!
I flipped Traci over onto her hands and knees. I pulled her back towards the foot of the bed. Got off the bed and stood. Pulled her bare ass against me. Grabbed my engorged cock and pushed it up against her sopping pussy. Shoved into her. Listened as she yelped, or barked. I ran my hands over the tan leather on her thighs, down her leathered calves, over her tight boots, my fingers fondling her heels. Reversed these movements, inhaling deeply, the euphoria of leather and pussy filling the air. The damn animal leather was doing it to me. I watched as Traci pushed her pussy over my huge cock. Those magnificent tits were hanging down, but rock hard and tight. They must be fifteen pounds each.
I thrust deeper into the painted leather girl, the yelping/barking thing was happening again. I wasn't sure what it was, but she was squirming, trying to take me. I mounted the bed with my knees, and was able to reach around and grab those slick, 'hall of fame' tits. As I did, I pushed in further, further, finally sinking all the way. Traci arched her back, giving me full access to her tits. My hands weren't big enough and I didn't have enough of them to do what I wanted. Her tits were completely overwhelming me. This was one chick I would surely want to do again. There was way too much of her for one session.
My balls began to twitch again; it was time to start pumping. I let go of those tits and grabbed her waist. I began to pump. The sound of wet slapping began to compete with the barking sounds coming from the painted girl. My pumping became pounding, I was driving into her pussy, hard and deep. Splattering on full contact. The girl was for sure barking, the sound overtaking the yelping and moaning. Leather assed, guttural barking. A wild dog. A fucking dingo.
I pounded her good. Obliterated her pussy. Hit her hard and fast, a god damned jack hammer. We slid across the bed as we fucked. Suddenly her skull was slamming full on against the headboard.
I thought I might break her neck, but the barking continued. I was fucking Traci the dog as if there was no tomorrow. Finally my balls let go, blowing streams of cum into the depths of her pussy. The barking became a wolfish growling, and I felt her pussy clamp down on my emptying cock, shredding at my member, trying to squeeze it down to nothing. We collapsed on the bed, me on top of her, me inside her. She was panting now, the barking and growling were over. The panting became a soft mewing. Animal sex, indeed.
The counter clicked to ten.
The face was plain.
The tits were legendary.
The pussy sprayed.
The chick was an animal.
Her hide was rich leather.
What number would she get
Hole number ten. Traci. Seven point five for the chaps and the tits and the painted face.
Eight point five for the effort.
See the novel review at WWW.EROTICAREVEALED.COM, June edition, and at BARNES&NOBLE.COM.
Visit Ronan Jackson Jefferson on Facebook.
Watch the video on YouTube, 'TRAILER FOR THIRTY-ONE DAYS'.
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