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The Posh Bird

Category: Anal Sex
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I was walking home and I didn’t fancy returning to the small student flat above the row of shops where I was approaching. The whole country had in the midst of a prolonged and quite severe cold snap

I had done enough for the day. It was a Wednesday, a universal half day for students. I had turned out for the 2nd fifteen, had my weekly shower and put a few extra hours study time in the library.

It had only been a fairly recent realisation that my time at uni was coming to an end and that I had better get my butt into gear. As a result I had made a new year’s resolution to be more studious and try to repay everyone’s faith in me.

It was cold, very cold, and the flat had no central heating. The only thing it had was a small electric fire in the lounge, a hob and a fan heater shared between all three of us. There was no television or bath. Colin, Mike and I all had to wash at the university sports hall.

So I was clean, exercised and feeling rather proud of myself as I turned left and wandered through the large half glassed wooden door of what, by now, had become my local pub. It was a typical high street pub, showing its age and signs of wear and tear, half way down a terrace of older housing and opposite a bank of shops.

The smell of tobacco and ale hit me like a brick as I stepped on to the thick and sticky red patterned carpet in the small lobby. I nodded to the landlady as I glanced to the open passageway on my left and saw my mates sat in the snug watching television with, as was normal, a table full of empty glasses.

They were lucky and bright enough not to have to work at it, I, on the other hand, had to graft hard to grasp even the simplest of concepts.

The other part of my resolution had been to cut down on the booze. I ordered a pint of coke and sat down feeling rather holier than thou.

There was a crowd of four or five girls stood in front of the small and smoky bay where we normally sat. Colin and Mike had obviously been there since lunch time and, were to say the least, rather merry.

They were deep in conversation – fully on the pull. I sat on the edge of it all. I wasn’t looking for a shag, all I wanted was a warm up and to relax. Easy meat I thought to myself as I sat and watched the lads in action.

It turned out that the girls lived in a house just around the corner and were all first year drama students. We hadn’t seen them there before but they were all friendly enough, except for one, who sat opposite me looking rather aloof. She sat erect and a little stiff and made no attempt to engage in the conversation. She looked rather out of place.

“Oh don’t worry about her. She’s always like that.” One of them said.

Someone else suggested that they all go off to Geronimo’s, the local disco come nightclub. It was student night on a Wednesday, free entry with cheap drinks.

I had a test in the morning and so declined persistently as both Colin and Mike tried to persuade me to go with them. The crowd left in a whirl, leaving the small room quiet except for the hushed tones of the television news.

The landlady cleared the table with a broad smile and the clank of glass on glass.

The miserable looking girl from opposite swung in and back down, her sudden re-appearance stunned me a little.

“Damn shoes!” She said pulling off her shiny patent leather ankle boot and examining the broken heel.

She was a slight and petite girl, dark haired but well dressed – almost too well dressed to be a student. She sported an outfit in the gypsy mould, a long flowing blue printed skirt, ruffled blouse and a bright red cardigan. She had long and flowing curly hair, centred parted and held in place by a printed silk head scarf with large golden hooped earrings catching the dim light.

Her accent was posh and obviously public school. She was very correct, had a terrific posture and was very deliberate in her actions. She seemed rather prim and proper and by her demeanour felt rather out of place in the small university town. She had a slow and delicate touch and paused between every response.

“Bad day?” I asked glancing across at her.

She had gleaming emerald eyes, a cute turned up freckled nose and a doll like crystal clear pale complexion. Her lips were painted a deep maroon.

“Oh yes!” She sighed almost theatrically.

“Can I get you a drink?” She asked, very politely, gazing deep into my eyes.

“No thanks.” I said pointing to my ¾ full glass of coke.

“A proper drink?”

“No, no, really, I’m fine, honestly.” I answered as she stood and moved towards the bar.

I took the chance to check her out as she walked to the bar and on her return a few minutes later.

She was short, about a foot and a half shorter than my 6 foot 5 inches. She was petite but had definite curves, under her flowing skirt there was definite evidence of a neat backside and a good couple of pins.

She wasn’t well endowed on the breast front but not flat chested either – just right for her frame I would have said.

She came back holding a large vodka and lime, not her first by the way she swayed a little across the uneven floor.

We introduced ourselves and chatted for a while, small talk, mostly stuff about the pub and locale, nothing of any consequence.

She, Maxine, was almost faultless in her appearance. She clutched the bowl of her glass with her petite but elegant fingers tipped with matching shiny maroon nail polish. I watched her gracefully sip at her drink, leaving a half moon impression of her lush lips on the edge of the glass, almost perfectly in the same spot each time.

Maxine drained her glass with a final delicate sip and raised her large cloth handbag. Full of gallantry I rose.

“Can I walk you home?” It was a genuine request – I was not on the pull.

She cocked a sideways and suspicious glance at me but nodded. I downed the remains of my coke and followed her out of the door and into the bitter cold.

She wrapped herself in a woollen scarf and pulled on an expensive looking ¾ length camel skin coat.

“Damn it!” She exclaimed searching her pockets and bag. “I haven’t got a key and I bet they are not going to be back until late.”

“That’s OK, our flat is only over there. You can haul in until they come back. It’s not much but you would be most welcome.” I tried to let my lack of elocution not impede my manners.

“Would you like something to eat?” I asked as we drifted to a halt outside the chip shop.

After buying a couple of bags of chips we crossed the road, walked around the corner and down the back alley to the flat’s entrance. It was a dark and depressing concrete block, with thick open concrete steps up to the first floor balcony, off which were each of the flats in the block.

The light was poor, the bins smelled and graffiti was daubed all around.

I inserted the key into the council green door and pushed it open. The blast of icy air hit me like a brick as I hung my coat up and searched my pockets for a 50p piece to put in the meter.

I opened the cupboard door and hastily slammed the coin in. Rushing to the fire I hit the switch and turned the knob to full.

The flat was small. The front door opened into a porch with an inner door of clear glass panels. This in turn opened into the lounge – it was just large enough for a small dining table, which doubled as the study, a cupboard come wardrobe and a 3-seater settee, which also doubled as the third bed.

The sofa faced the two bar electric heater, the fan heater had been left plugged in behind. The wafer thin curtains bellowed with the rush of cold air through the badly fitting and rotten windows.

“Here. Take a seat. I’ll get a plate.” I said as I went into the kitchen.

Kitchen was a relative word, it too was small but had all the essentials – fridge, cupboards, sink and a hob. It was typical that there were no clean plates to be found. I ran a couple under the icy tap, dried them hurriedly, hoping the tea towel wasn’t too dirty, before putting the kettle on and grabbing a bottle of sauce.

“Haven’t you got anything stronger?” Maxine shouted through.

“I’ll have a look.” I replied. I opened the cupboard to find the emergency bottle of cider, placed there just for this type of situation. I grabbed it together with a couple of mugs.

The small lounge was getting as warm as it would ever get. Maxine still had her coat on and sat on the sofa toasting her feet on the fire.

The flat had two bedrooms. The last one in each night usually got the sofa, but the lounge had been the warmest room in the house all week and I had my eyes on it for later.

The kitchen was off a small passage to the left, opposite was a small toilet with a sliding door, no sink, and with only just enough room for the bowl.

Through the door on the left at the end of the passage was the first bedroom another opened to the right for the second. It had once been one larger room, but the landlord had partitioned it off allowing for two bedrooms, each barely big enough for a bed and a wardrobe.

The left hand room was marginally the larger. This was the shagging room, it even had a slightly bigger bed pushed up under the window opposite the door. If anyone scored the procedure was to hang a tennis racket on the coat hook outside so that no-one would be disturbed.

Mike was the pulling champion, achieving a hit rate of once or twice a week. In my early days at uni I hadn’t done too badly but was now trying to concentrate on my studies.

The fire was on full blast and I knew it would run the meter down quickly. I hoped that the group would come back soon so I could get to bed.

Maxine took off her coat, poured a glass of cider and daintily ate her chips one by one from the paper. Her conversation wasn’t up to much. I soon realised that she was in a league above me and we had little in common. I tried to lighten things up but it was to prove heavy going.

She was having a tough time and had failed her first term’s finals. She had all but decided to pack it in, hoping to return back to Daddy’s farm back in the Home Counties.

The longer the conversation went on the more I yearned for the door to open and to be rescued, but Maxine continued and began to pour her heart out to me.

“The other girls don’t like me. I’m not like them. I don’t fit in.” She bemoaned.

“It’s just like tonight, they all left me at the pub in a flash, no-one cared that my shoe was broken.”

Oh God! I thought -“Beam me up Scotty!” I glanced anxiously at the door.

I tried to comfort her and handed her the rest of the bottle of cider. She poured glass after glass and gulped them back quickly.

The conversation had gone dry, Maxine was clutching an empty glass when the meter ran out with a loud click. The room was plunged into a sudden darkness, lit only dimly by the streetlights outside through the paper thin curtains. The fire had gone out and to cold was already building.

“God it’s cold!” Maxine said as she stood up. The empty cider bottle tumbled down her long cotton skirt to the floor.

“I’ve just got to sleep. Would you mind awfully if I stayed the night?” She asked very properly and politely but I was beginning to suspect that her posh accent was an affectation and that she may have been hiding behind it or indeed it might have been a part of an act or façade.

“OK, but it will be very cold through there.” I warned.

“Where is the bedroom?” She said holding back a yawn.

I pointed down the passage.

“Coming?” She said in a matter of fact voice, tilting her head and arching her eyebrows.

I raised an eyebrow in turn.

“Well someone has to keep me warm, haven’t they!” She said in an almost demanding tone.

With that she opened the door to the right. A look of horror came across her face as she focused on the tiny and unkempt space before her. She shut it abruptly and pushed at the left hand door.

“Through here?” She asked as she groped for the light switch not realising that nothing would happen in any case – the meter had run out!

“That’s the second bedroom.” I answered flicking the light switch on the opposite wall to where she had been looking, illustrating that nothing would happen.

She tutted loudly and almost turned her nose up in disapproval. This room was even colder but at least the bed had a blanket. The others had been piled in the corner of the lounge in preparation for me to sleep on the couch. She shrugged her shoulders and went in anyway, fatigue getting the better of her judgement.

The room was musty and damp with the cold. There was a streetlight directly outside which lit the room quite brightly, all be it with a strange orange hue. I drew the flimsy curtains and deliberately blew out a breath thick with water vapour.

“Dragon breath.” I said cheerily, trying to make light of the penetrating chill in the air. God it was cold. Maxine threw off her skirt and cardigan top. She left her blouse, lacy knickers and long black socks on as she climbed between the ice cold sheets.

Drawing the blanket up, she said, “come on, get in quick, it’s really cold in here.”

I kicked off my jeans and top and climbed in. I felt I should at least cuddle her to keep her warm. My hands were like blocks of ice and all the heat in my body was been drawn out by the cold bed clothes. I closed my arms around her and behind her back. She shivered as my icy hands made contact with her through the thin material of her blouse.

“Get off me. Keep you hands to yourself.” She said sharply as she rolled over with her back to me.

I rolled my eyes as she pushed her icy cold backside into my loins. I jumped with the shock of the coldness drawing the heat through my thin boxers. Maxine didn’t seem to be fazed, she simply yawned and fell asleep.

I tried to get off to sleep but my feet were stuck out of the bottom of the bed, my butt was stuck out of the side and the bare bit of my back, where my tee shirt didn’t reach, was almost hurting with the cold. Maxine was now warm as toast and was shuffling about.

As she shifted I took my chance and snuggled under the covers. She opened an eye, looked at me, threw back the covers, sprang up and left the room.

Great, I thought, as the icy air engulfed my body. The covers were on the floor at the foot of the bed and by the time I managed to untangle them I heard her trying to flush the toilet and the sound of the door slide shut as she came back into the room.

“The toilet won’t flush.” She said seemingly expecting me to do something to fix it immediately.

“I think it will probably be frozen. I’ll have a look later.”

“Oh sod it!” I heard her murmur under her breath.

She climbed over me and resumed her position in the bed, again thrusting her icy cold rear end at me. This time, however, I could feel no sheer material, indeed all I could feel was cold flesh.

“I left my knickers in the bathroom. It’s too cold to go back and get them now. I’ll get them in the morning.”

As she thrust back I felt the tell tale signs of growth in my cock. She must have too as she wiggled her ass crack almost inviting my tool to nestle along it. She yawned again and lay still.

Sod it! I thought and pulled my cock out of the fly hole in my boxers. I adjusted my position and allowed it to rest in the furrow of her ass. It was cold against my thighs but as I shifted a little my end came to rest at a warm spot, covering the very tip. Maxine lay motionless, asleep for all I knew.

Very slowly our positions started to shift. Maxine slowly arched her back and pushed her backside out to meet my cock. In return I slowly thrust my cock forward. The warm spot grew and began to engulf my hardening end.

Sod it! I thought, I wasn’t looking for a shag but if one fell in my lap then ….

We each played the game, pushing ourselves closer together, making a series of minute and almost imperceptive movements.

My cock kept sliding away from the comfort of the warm spot, which had been moistened by pre-come leaching from my rock hard cock. Each time it spilled out I shifted my position, rotating my hips to re-achieve the perfect angle. Maxine for her part did the same, bending still further forward.

We must have done this dance for around an hour.

Eventually I realised that she was lying with her torso almost at right angles to mine. I pushed harder and the head of my cock suddenly burst into a warm and tight recess. The silky and tight warmth encased the end and was in stark contrast to the cool air at the base.

Maxine let out a satisfied sigh, ground her hips back to swallow my manhood further. She swung her right leg over mine to make a perfect fit.

She wasn’t cold anymore either, in fact she was quite the reverse, glowing hot almost like a fire brick.

I took the plunge and dropped my hand into her warm crotch. She jumped as my cold hand met hers, cupping her hairy muff and gaining heat from her hot inner thighs.

“God that’s cold, warm them up before you touch me will you.”

She was awake and I wondered for how long she had been so. She hadn’t told me to get off. She had almost given me an invitation and after all my cock was inside of her.

I couldn’t resist and drew my hand up her blouse and rested it against her small and firm breast. The coolness of my fingers transferred through the thin cotton material and her nipple sprang back at me. Still she lay still and silent, an air of expectation filled the small and cosy space.

I began to gently thrust forward, she returned the favour by further arching her back and pushing her ass back towards me. I withdrew a few inches and repeated the cycle, slowly and deliberately pushing my cock deeper into her with each thrust.

The intensity of the cold air heightened my pleasure as my cock re-entered her warm and moist tunnel. Maxine’s breathing became more rapid and I felt a strange vibration at her groin. I noticed the rippling of her bicep in the dim light – she was masturbating – rubbing her clit, her hand buried between her legs.

This was unexpected and rather odd. It had never happened to me before and I was under the impression that it was my job to do that. I had never had a woman take the lead in this way before.

The rhythmic vibrations and movements were quite soothing and the speed of her manipulations accelerated steadily. Eventually her breathing became a short series of pants and I felt her muscles tense and ripple around the base of my cock.

Every pore in her body must have opened, she became clammy as her convulsions ebbed. I took the opportunity to unbutton her blouse and feel the soft and warm flesh beneath, pushing her bra up to cup her firm breast.

Then I felt something strange and unexpected. Her arm was still in motion, her hand still at her crack. I could feel a strange sensation at the sides of my cock but couldn’t quite decide what it was.

A strange pressure at each side of the base, coming through the walls …..

That feels like fingers, I thought. How can that be? Oh my God! I’m in her arse! She must be fingering her cunt and feeling me through her inner walls. The revelation hit me like a brick.

A myriad of thoughts ran through my head – am I queer, is she really a man in drag? This has got to be wrong, dirty, perverted even.

“Am I….in your …. er….um…” I stuttered out.

“God yes.” She cooed back at me. “And I love it. Don’t stop. I love you buggering me. That’s what you are doing isn’t it – you are buggering me. Don’t stop buggering me, please. Now please bugger me stupid, bugger me stupid with that big dick of yours why don’t you.”

It was too much, too intense, too dirty and perverted – so I pulled out.

Maxine rolled over and looked me up and down trying to weigh up my mood.

“Please kind sir.” She said, wide eyed and pleading. “I would like it very much if you were to put your big dick back in my bottom.”

I was amazed by the incongruence of her posh voice, her accent, politeness and the dirty and even base request she was making.

She removed her blouse and bra, threw back the covers and mounted me in the reverse cowgirl position. I lay motionless almost paralysed and full of curiosity as she lowered her willing ass over my tool, skilfully guiding it in with her right hand.

My cold cock drew heat from her hot tunnel. Her hand was cold to the touch and left my balls stinging with the icy feel of her finger tips.

She rose up and down, her hand again buried in her groin, re-enacting the fingering that lead to the odd feeling at my cock. I concentrated on the sensation – it felt strange but somehow alluring.

“Oh God, I would like it if you came up there. Would you please come in my arse?” She asked, ever so politely, in a posh and deliberate tone, as she rode me up and down.

Who was I to refuse such a courteous but improper request? I wasn’t sure if she was working me or was genuinely that polite. I thought how can she talk like that with my cock in her arse?

She must really be that posh if she can hold her accent even when trembling with passion and lust. My head spun with the irony of it all, I had a posh bird riding my tool with her arse and all I had to do was lay back and think of England.

I studied her shape as she rose and fell rhythmically on my tool. It was a real turn on to watch her tight butt stretch over my end as it disappeared and reappeared from within her. After a few dozen strokes I felt it thicken within her. After one or two more stabbing thrusts she tensed her ass tight against my expanding shaft and I jetted my load into her.

She ground her arse hard down against my pumping and pulsing cock. She had two or three of her fingers buried deep within her wet gash and was almost trying to wank me off through the walls of her cunt.

“Thank you, kind sir.” She said calmly and graciously, titling her head, as she spun around. She dismounted my faltering hardness and hitched herself up my upper body and fell on my chest. She lifted my tee shirt with her icy cold hands and rested her cooling torso against mine. She was still breathing hard and her nose was like an ice cube as she kissed my cheek tenderly. Her hard and cold nipples, bullet like, raked against my chest.

I felt a warm sensation as come dribbled from her well used ass and on to my flat and hairy stomach.

Her breathing had returning to normal and her cheeks were losing their bright red flush. She gazed into my eyes as she moved back down my chest and past my flaccid tool. She grabbed the covers and pulled them back up and over her head. She stopped with her soft lips adjacent to the cold pool of sticky goo.

With a series of noisy slurps and sucks she drew the thick globules into her mouth, all of the time keeping her eyes fixed on mine. She pulled my boxers over my hips, licked her lips and smiled as she lowered her head down to suck the remainder of her juices direct from my shaft.

She greedily sucked and licked the entirety of my member. I think she wanted to extract every last taste of her ass from it. She ministered each of my balls tenderly whilst gently pulling at the soft skin of my re-hardening rod.

She returned up my body allowing the covers to fall back again, climbed off and started to feel around the floor.

“It’s too cold.” She said putting her cardigan on and re-mounting me.

She was now squatting directly over my fully erect cock. I looked at her nearly naked frame shrouded in the red woollen knit. Her small but perfect tits were hiding just inside each flap, her hairy cunt was wet and gleaming with come, her inner lips pouting open and ready to accept my hard member.

The long knee length socks were less than a turn on but highlighted the marble like pale skin of her inner thighs.

She was obviously fastidious about her appearance, I would have bet that her pubes were as they appeared – they looked like they had each been manicured and individually set in position, each of uniform length and curl. She had a laser straight trimmed edge that looked good enough to eat. Her clipping had left enough hair to cover her patch but left them sparse enough to open the hint of a view of her soft and pink inner lips.

I raised my hand to her breast and reached to feel her soft and pink nipple, she shuddered and drew away from the icy touch. She clasped my hand in hers and guided it home with a shiver and a sigh, allowing me access to her soft and warm globes.

“Can I please feel you inside me again?” She asked in a soft and pleading tone with almost a hint of desperation.

“Where?” I asked almost instinctively and abruptly.

“Can I please choose?” She asked staring deep into my eyes.

“Can’t I fuck you in your ……” I asked almost in disappointment.

“We’ll see.” She said as she grabbed the base of my cock and offered it to her groin.

I looked down as my cock disappeared into a hot and warm hole. This one felt different – more lax, somehow cooler, but not as deep as my tip had reached a stop.

Maxine caught her breath and started to gently rub at her protruding clit.

She re-started the rhythmic riding motion, this time with my cock in her quim.

“I’m not on the …..” She forced out through gritted teeth. “So don’t……”

She said in between accelerating her motion. Again her breathing became short and laboured as she fought both passion and exertion.

She reached down and felt at the base of my cock entering her wet hole, almost wanking it into herself. I recall the sensation and her expression as she reached behind and stuck a finger fully into her anus. Her look of pain and pleasure etched itself deep in my consciousness.

She had remarkable balance, riding my cock whilst fingering her arse. She moved her hand back to her cunt and let out a gasp as her fingers hit home.

With a huge lunge and a rapid acceleration of her hand she threw her head back. She stopped at the top of a stroke and tensed her body. She exhaled loud and long, her torso began to twitch and spasm as she drove herself hard down on my lap. She almost silently erupted into a deep drawn out climax.

I was getting the ride of my life. Her tight cunt walls massaged and gripped at my shaft as the convulsions tore through her body.

“If you want to come again it will have to be in my bottom.” She said quietly and deliberately as she recovered her composure. “Do you want to come again? Would you like to come in my bottom?”

Again the poshness of her voice seemed to countermand her request.

I couldn’t decide what to do but Maxine decided for me. With a feat of dexterity and a skilful hop she manoeuvred my cock directly into her welcoming back passage. I gasped as the extra heat and tightness of her ass smothered and encased my throbbing tool.

She lent all the way back, lying flat on my legs and bending my cock double. The discomfort was secondary to the visual delight that I was witnessing – it gave me an uninterrupted view of her gaping twat.

As she rode me I looked down at the marvellous site of her open cunt gripping at an imaginary tool with each downward thrust.

Her hand moved back down to her wet and clenching clam. The pale inner flesh was neatly framed by the dark backdrop of her perfectly tended bush. Her impeccably finished nails tipping her dainty fingers further highlighted her soft inner flesh as she spread herself wide, her two fingers in a “V.

I watched as she ran them up and down the length of her soft furrow, gathering lubrication from her readily flowing juices. She began to manipulate her quim for my edification – putting on a genital theatre with her cunt at centre stage.

She pulled her lips wide apart exposing her rock hard clit. She teased and tweaked at it for my pleasure, jumping as she raked her nails up and down the stubby knob. She pinched the end and wanked it as if it were a small cock before flicking and poking at it playfully.

Her fingers swapped, she held her lips wide with her outer most fingers, leaving the centre two to wander up and down the length of her juicy gash.

I jumped as her nails repeatedly jabbed into the base of my cock still resting deep in her anal passage.

She sighed as she jabbed her two middle fingers deep inside of her gaping snatch. I marvelled at the splendid slurping sound it made as she waggled them in, out and around.

The additional stimuli did the trick and within a few more seconds I could feel the sap rising in my balls.

Again she plunged her fingers into her dripping twat, this time gripping at my tool as it thickened inside her tight back passage.

She folded her outer two fingers in and plunged them into her sopping wet slit, joining the others. She pushed them in as far as the second knuckle and pulled them back. The slurping noises were amplified and echoed in the small room as her cunt opened and closed, back and forth against her motion.

She made a gagging sound as she pushed her fist further inside stopping short of the last knuckle. I was sure that she had tucked her thumb in behind to complete the set.

I didn’t know if she were feeling pain or pleasure from the noises she was making. I felt her fingers close around the outline of my tool and as she gently moved her hand in and out.

My eyes were fixed, laser like, on the magnificent sight of her hand protruding from her hairy mott, stretched to its full limit. Her juices covered her dainty fingers and long and silken strings stuck to the sides as she plunged her petite hand in and out. Her fingers were cupped into shape as she slowly but repeatedly sunk them in and out of her pink passage.

She pulled her right hand out, drew her left down to her gaping snatch and opened her opulent hole wide for my inspection. She gripped and tensed her muscles, opening and closing her vulva, inviting a further intense look. I locked a fascinated gaze at the wet void, glistening in the eerie orange light.

With two fingers from each hand she stretched her cunt open even wider. She gasped as she pushed her right hand back in. Her muscles clenched around it involuntarily as it slid in almost beyond the widest part. It came to rest almost the entire way up to her wrist.

She sprang back up seemingly needing to gaze upon me and gauge my reaction to her depraved performance. She sported a wicked grin and looked deep into my eyes as she propped herself up on my shin.

She again drove up and down on my tool, her face twisted with pleasure. She bit her bottom lip in ecstasy and looked down at her wet cunt, watching her own come glisten as it welled out from her clenching hole.

I looked up at her face, she was flushed red with sex and strands of her hair were matted to her sweaty forehead. She had closed her eyes and was puffing her cheeks out as she continued to force her hand deeper inside her gaping fanny.

It was almost as if she needed an audience, a spectator to attest to these – her inner most perversions.

She opened her eyes and fixed another sinful stare deep into mine, all of the time increasing the speed of her hand driving into her hot and wet gash, accompanied by the exquisite and beguiling squelchy sound effects

With remarkable suppleness she re-started pumping up and down on my tool, still embedded firmly in her back passage, her hand still deep inside her snatch. She concentrated on the rhythm knowing that I was on the verge. I pushed my hips upward to meet her urgent downward thrusts. My stomach butted up against her hand forcing it deeper into her, drawing a series of un-lady like grunts and moans from deep within her.

I felt myself approach the point of no return. Within one or two more stabbing motions I came again, shooting my load as deep into her bowels as I could.

She emitted a series of guttural clicks as she came. Torrents of warm fluid flooded from her yawning pink orifice as she partly withdrew her hand. To my horror and shock she had just shot her load back over me!

Her twat had erupted with a gush – her juices had sprayed out in an arc, flowed over my groin and down my balls, drenching the sheet below.

This was again new, at first I thought she had wet herself and it was only when I realised that the smell and texture were different that I lost the instinct to bolt. I simply lay there, incapable of any movement, my mind overloaded with the sensations and stimuli it was trying to process.

We both paused to catch our breath. She was drenched with sweat and her whole body went limp as every muscle seemed to relax simultaneously. Her petite frame heaved as she breathed deeply – the tide of ecstasy within her ebbing. She paused for another second, drinking in the intense sensations racing through her.

For my part, I remained dumbstruck, my eyes fixed at the sight of her squatting on my cock with four of her fingers still inserted in her canal.

She sighed in delight as she fully withdrew her hand, bowed her head, looked longingly into my eyes and smiled – a meek smile of fatigue and fulfilment.

“Oh my-my.” She said in a quiet and surprised whisper.

She flopped forward, her wobbly knees rested either side of my ribs, my cock slipped out of her hot and puckered butt with an audible plop. . She reached back, pulled the cover back up and over us and we cuddled in silence. Her hot breath spilled over my neck and shoulder, the red hot flush of her cheek was against mine and the sticky warmth of come spread over and cooled our private parts.

I wasn’t sure what to make of what had just happened. It was intense, perverted even, but somehow not to be spoken of.

I must have drifted off to a fitful sleep. I awoke suddenly as the light flickered on – someone must have put some money in the meter. I squinted and glanced at my watch, it was 4.30 am.

Mike had returned to the flat with someone, probably a potential conquest. He was bashing about the kitchen trying to find a plate and make a cup of tea.

Maxine took her chance, climbed out of the bed and hurriedly got dressed.

The last memory I have of her is of me trying to look up her skirt and cop one last eyeful of her hairy clam as she kissed me on the cheek. It was an unemotional peck, just as if I had just lent her a handkerchief or given her 10p towards a cup of tea.

“That was, er, um, awesome.” Was all I could muster as she turned and walked towards the door, her immaculate gait belieing the recent and brutal abuse of her sex. I lay there in the damp patch and watched her glide elegantly out of the room. She said nothing.

Mike told me that he saw her emerge from the room, with not a hair out of place. She stopped outside the toilet door, coolly picked up her knickers and looked both him and his companion up and down. She paused only to take her coat from the back of the sofa and put it on. Without a word she calmly opened the front door and left. His new friend had not been one of her housemates.

I didn’t see her ever again and I assumed she had left the university. Some time later Mike did say that he had chatted someone up that looked just like her at a theatre studies bash, although she had a thick Mancunian accent.

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