"BillyG and Martina" copyright (c) 1997 by BillyG - All
rights reserved.
BILLYG AND MARTINA
On the south side of my bedroom, there's a large
window box, easily big enough for two friendly people to
sleep or to play. The blinds allowed thin strips of late
afternoon sun to lace across Martina's nude body as I traced
feather-soft, random lines across the swell of her breasts,
almost, but not quite touching the sensitive nipples.
"Oh, you tease, you," she murmured in slight protest,
pushing her at my retreating finger tip.
"You ever read anything by Nancy Friday?" I asked,
cupping the swell of her tit at her side.
"Yes...but sometime back. Wasn't she the one who
wrote about women's fantasies?" Not to be denied long, she
reached for and tweaked her own nipple, pulling it up and
rolling it between her thumb and forefinger.
"The same," I replied. "Did you read the -- or
was it a recount of a fantasy? -- about the woman, a as I recall, who was wearing a long white dress and who went
walking with her son one day?"
Now pulling on both her nipples, Martina complained,
"What're we doing? Are we making love, or are we having a
literary discussion?"
"Both actually. Stay with me a moment and you may
see where this is going." Then pausing, I ran a light touch
from her throat down between her breasts, across her
abdomen and just touched the ends of her public hairs with
the flat of my hand. "As I recall, this woman was walking
in front of her son in the country, up a trail perhaps . .
."
"Oh, God, that tickles!" Martina interrupted,
scrubbing her public bush with her finger nails until I
grabbed her wrist, holding her gently but firmly.
"No, babes. Not yet. I know you're hungry, but let
me set the pace. Surrender to this, won't you?"
Her eyes blazed for a moment and then she gave a
little smile and said, "Well...okay...but I'm wet NOW."
"Just let go. Surrender to the experience and you'll
be delighted." I continued, "As this woman in the long
white summer dress was walking with her son, she became
aware that she had to urinate."
With a huge smile, Martina squealed, "Oh goody, it's
one of THOSE stories!"
Laughing, I said, "Of course. What'd you expect from
someone like me. But listen up, you squirmy thing."
"Okay, okay. But first, won't you touch me just a
little lower?"
"You mean...down there?" I asked with an astonished
gasp. "You mean...your...your pussy?"
"Yes, Billy! My pussy. My cunt! You've hardly
started this dumb and I'm leaking and I'm itchy and I
need something INSIDE me."
She attempted to push the hand I was holding into her
crotch as she lifted her hips to meet herself, but I pulled
her away, saying, "The woman HAD to pee. She was desperate
and at the same time, it felt good, but her son was there.
What should she do, do you suppose?"
Martina laughed and struggled again, trying to free
her hand, and said, "Well, she should take a god damn *pee*,
for cripes' sake."
"Right in front of her son?" I asked, shocked, still
holding her wrist but lowering my head that I might touch
her nipple with the tip of my tongue.
"Of course. Oh, shit...I don't know. How old's her
son anyway?" And then, "Do that again, Billy!"
"Say 'please.' He's, oh...fifteen, sixteen. enough to by horny. Do what again?"
"Lick my nipple. PLEASE. Lick my nipple, please."
And then, remembering the story, she asked, puzzled, "Horny?
What kinda is this, anyway? A and a son? And
she has to pee? Is this an watersports story. You
some kinda *pervert*?" Martina licked her lips and rolled
her eyes, indicating how shocked and morally outraged she
was.
Lightly licking one, and then the other nipple, I
continued, "So she just out and announces to her son --
without looking at him -- that she has to pee."
"Oh, racy, racy."
"Shut up and listen, woman. I may have to spank you
at this rate," I threatened in my best oil-can Harry voice.
"The son had been walking behind her for a reason. From
time to time the afternoon sun shown through her dress,
outlining her long legs."
With a big-eyes look of surprise, Martina asked,
"You *sure* Nancy Friday wrote this?"
"Kinda. I may be buffing it up a bit, but who
cares?"
"Not me, big boy. Buff away. So, what'd she do?
in her pants?"
"No, my little pants wetter. What she really wants
to do is show her butt to her son. You see, they have the
hots for each other and neither knows it. This is her way
of letting him see her, get it?"
Pushing her at my mouth again, she shook her
head and said, "Um...I don't think so. Sounds too
complicated for me."
"I'll go slow. Watch my lips."
"I'll watch em, if they're wrapped around my
nipples, or better yet, on my clitty."
Talking slowly, I continued in my very best voice, "So, she picked up her long dress and, holding it
above her waist, she pulled her down with the other
hand . . ."
"Facing him or away from him?"
"Which way do you want?" I asked.
"It'd be better if she faced him," she offered.
"That way, she could watch him watching her. You know, make
eye contact as she's taking a pee. Sounds hotter that way."
"Okay, got it," I said, again licking her nipples.
"So, facing her son, watching him looking at her and pushing
her down, she stands there a moment, her black
public hair in bold contrast to her pale skin and the white
dress."
"Uh, 'scuse me again. The white dress *mean*
anything? I mean, like she's no virgin." Martina, who
normally spoke very correctly, could 'act dumb' when she
wanted to pretend.
"Sure it means *something*. How about the purity of
their relationship...or something like that? At least up to
this point."
"Yeah. I can tell the way *this* is going that
purity isn't going to play a major role for long!"
"Hopeless," I muttered, feigning turning her over for
a spanking. "This is gonna me more than . . ."
"I give. I give. Sorry, boss. I'll be good.
Honest. Don't beat me, again!"
With a dubious tone, I relented, "Well-l-l-l. Just
this once."
In a fake breathless voice, she interrupted again,
"Oh, please go on, sir. Do tell me. I've just GOT to
know." And then in a little voice, " Did the in
the white dress show her to the jerky little boy?"
Nodding, "Just that. Looking at him, she slowly
squatted and with legs spread, her completely exposed,
she began to pee. looking her son in the eye." Then I
added, "By the way, I should tell you that this wasn't a
tinkle. This wasn't a *little* pee. This was a real
gusher, a torrent!"
Martina gushed, "Oh, isn't Nancy Friday a
*wonderfully* gifted writer. This is so poetic, isn't it?
And I just LOVE how you tell a bedtime story!"
I moved down and glanced at the junction of her
thighs, at her swollen and wet lips. Sniffing her
musky scent, I observed, "If it weren't for the soggy
condition of your cunt, I might think you were funnin' me."
"And then what happened? Did they DO it?" she asked,
slowly rolling her hips and again making a half-hearted
reach to touch her self.
"No, not then. This is a SLOW build up."
"Slow is an understatement. You give new meaning to
the term "slow." Don't you know about cruelty to frustrated
and terminally horny chicks'?"
Responding to Martina's needs for ministrations, I
gently stroked and squeezed her soft mounds. Her nipples
erected, hardening and extending out in little points from
the dark circles surrounding them. She whispered, "Oh,
Billy, I love that. My are so sensitive. That's.
sooo...gooood."
I knew that if my hands felt that good on her
breasts, my mouth and tongue would feel even better. I
moved my mouth to her right and stroked my tongue
across its top. Martina jerked in reaction to the contact,
and then pulled herself even further back. With her hands
wrapped around the back of my neck, she leaned back and
thrust her up to me, inviting me to give them oral
caresses.
"Yes, Billy, suck on them. Oh, God, Billy, I've
longed so much for a to suck on my nipples. Suck them.
Please, Billy, suck them...suck them hard."
As I took a nipple into my mouth, she muttered, "Yes!
Yes, yes, yes. Like that. Oh, God, yes. Suck on
them...suck them...suck like a baby."
Seeing the pleasure I was giving Martina, I
doubled my efforts, taking the whole center of her into my mouth and on it. As I did so, I stroked my
tongue in circles around her nipple, moving it across the
pebbly-texture of her areola. I pulled my mouth away from
her until just the hard extension of her nipple was
still between my lips and nibbled on it, biting with just
the gentlest of nips with my teeth.
Martina whispered, almost a hiss, "Yeesssssss,
like that. Just...like...that."
Then, altering the pace and the sensations, I told her,
"Just turn over, little girl"
"Oh-oh. You going to spank me, daddy?"
"Trust me. Just turn over."
As Martina softly grunted, turning over and laying on
her belly, she asked, "Why do I have to turn over to hear a
about a broad in the woods so her wimpy son
can watch?"
"You ask too many questions. God, it's tough to tell
a around this place," I complained as I slipped my
hand between her thighs just below her lips, barely
touching her pubic hair.
Pushing her ass up, Martina sighed, "You're right. I
surrender. Then what'd they do...the and her horny son?"
"Maybe he was more hot for her buns than watching her
take a leak. What do *you* think?"
"Well, screw *him*. I know what *my* buns want."
Running a finger from the perineum, through the crack
of her ass, just grazing her anus, I asked, "This?"
"That feels nice." Then, in a tentative voice, she
added, "But I'm a little afraid."
"Afraid of what?" I asked, very slowly tracing a
light touch around her little rose bud. "That I'll stop?"
"That you'll me."
"Martina, please know that it is not my intention to
ever you. To the contrary, it *is* my intention to
pleasure you, to please you, to drive you to the place where
you beg for more. Nothing, I mean absolutely nothing, will
ever be done without your permission. At any time, you can
simply tell me to stop. I assure you, I will."
Her mind might have been apprehensive, but her body
had a different agenda. Again, her hips and ass pushed into
the air, opening up and ass to my gaze.
Grabbing some water-based lubricant, I put a dollop on
my forefinger and placed it right on her anus, saying, "I
suspect you're going to enjoy this. You're probably as anal
erotic as I am."
Turning her head to look back at me, she asked with
wide eyes, "YOU'RE anal erotic?"
"Yeah. Ain't our bodies wonderful?"
"Ever been butt fucked?" she asked with consummate
tact.
"No. You wanna be first...get my butt cherry?"
With a husky laugh, she admitted, "I just might!"
I continued to trace patterns around her anus,
dipping in occasionally to apply light pressure to her
sphincter. "You ever get it up the butt?"
She hesitated and then in a rush, said, "Uh...I've
*tried* it. Wasn't bad, but wasn't good either. I mean, I
guess my mind's open, but it *did* a little."
As I applied soft, constant pressure with the pulp of
my forefinger, Martina continued to push back against me.
"Feels good, huh?" I asked her.
She didn't answer, save pushing against my finger, as
her sphincter slowly relaxed.
With my other hand I continued to touch her pussy,
caressing her lips, her womanly furrow, nearer and nearer to
the hooded clit at the top of her flooded and swollen slit.
She moaned, giving incoherent testimony to her
mounting passion.
My own train of thought was disrupted. I'd lost
track of the I was telling her. I'd lost track of any
planned seduction. I'd drifted up to some altered state of
semi-awareness, keenly in touch with my erotic senses and
Martina's responses. I was playing her and more, I was
playing myself.
The tip of my finger had slipped unaware into her
anus. I could feel the warmth and the softness. The tone of
her sphincter had given way to a buttery softness that
seemed to pull me in farther. She was slowly rolling her
hips, pushing up against me and with each backward push, my
finger slipped in another millimeter or so. Ever so slowly,
I was entering her ass. And both of us were loosing track
of where we were.
At the same time, I was, as slowly, pushing a finger
into her from the back, reaching for that area right
behind the public bone where Grafenberg's spot resided in
many women. I wanted to touch her G-spot from within as I
rolled her hard clitty from without.
She'd pulled her elbows under her body and was using
her arms to help grind her pelvis against my fingers. Her
head was down, her face partially covered by her hair, her
moans muffled, yet clearly, her moans were the voice of
pleasure.
"Yes, yes, yes," she breathed into the pillow.
Now I had both fingers in her. One in her and
the other buried in her rectum, as deep as I could push.
We'd developed a rhythm. As I pulled a finger partially out
of her ass, I'd push the other finger deeper into her cunt,
reaching and touching the G-spot. Then, alternating, I'd
slowly pull out of her and simultaneously penetrate
deeper into her ass guts.
As she softened, I slipped a second finger into her
buttery ass. Her only response was a stronger moan of
pleasure.
"Oh, God. Oh, God," she murmured, pushing against
me. "Oh, God, that's good. That's so good. I can't
believe it. It's incredible. Yes-s-s-s! Do me, do me."
I moved directly behind her, between her legs, and
leaning forward, asked, "Martina, I want to slip my hard
cock into your ass, baby. Do you want to try?"
"Oh, shit! I can't believe this. I can't believe
that I DO want you to. Yes. Yes, do try. But, please,
slowly. Don't me."
"Here's the deal, babes. I'm going to put the head
of my cock on your anus. I'll hold still. You back onto it
You'll be the one who determines what happens. Okay?"
"Oh, you prick. You're gonna make ME do it, aren't
you? You're gonna make me fuck myself onto to you, you
clever fucker!"
"Yep, that's the deal." I poured a generous portion
of "Probe" lubricating oil over my hard on and then slowly
pulling my two fingers out of her butt I positioned the head
of my turgid cock against her open ass and said, "It's
up to you, girl. Want it?"
Martina didn't answer right away, save to slowly push
back against my cock. The head slipped in side of her with
ease.
Looking down, I could see the round spheres of her
ass cheeks below me as I held her waist with my hands. I
could see intimately well what she could not, my hard cock
slowly slipping into her ass.
"It's going in, Martina. I can see it. My cock's
slipping into your ass, girl. Feel it? Feel it inside you,
Martina? In a second you're gonna have it all!"
I could barely hear her chant, "Fuck me. Fuck me.
Fuck me. In my ass. Oh, God. Yes, fuck me."
I didn't move for a few moments, again waiting for
her to *want* more. "Let me know when I can move, girl. I
want to fuck into you. I NEED to fuck you. I need it so
badly. Tell me. Are you ready?"
"Yes-s-s-s," she hissed. "Christ, yes! Move. In
and out."
I slowly pulled back, watching her anus clutch
my cock until I could see the ridge of the cock's head, just
inside the stretched skin of her now relaxed sphincter.
Then, as slowly, I pushed in. All the way. Then I pushed a
little more, holding her hips at her waist. Slow and
controlled. Slowly in and then slowly out, almost all the
way out, then back in.
"Faster, Billy. Do it faster. Do it harder. Pound
me! I want you to go fast and deep. I want you. In me.
Deeper. Oh, God, it's so good."
"Martina, I'm fucking you, girl. I'm fucking you in
your ass, right in your little shitter. Deep in your ass
guts. I'm inside you and I can feel your heat and the
tightness of your ass around the shaft of my cock. Feel me,
girl? Feel me in your tight butt, in your most private
place?
I'd ceased to think. My mind was running on with the
most erotic and delicious imagery. That, in turn, was
driving my words. Aroused beyond belief, I was carried
along by the intensity of passion. Powerless. I couldn't
stop if I wanted to. The momentum gained was taking me over
the top.
"I'm loosing it, girl. I'm gonna soon."
"Yes, me too! in me, Billy. in my ass. I'm
right with you. Let me feel your hot in my butt!"
We rushed right past the point of no return. I
prided myself on some ability to control my orgasms, but
this one was a runaway train and there wasn't a prayer of
controlling anything. I held on to her hips and just jerked
and quivered as I groaned, "I'm cum-m-m-ming, babes . . . I
coming...now!"
She screamed and went rigid, shuddering under me as
my cock jetted into her bowels.
Then I lost all awareness.
Some unknown time later, I heard a voice, "Oh, God! I
just can't believe what happened. I lost all track. I
didn't know where I ended and you began."
"I lost myself. God, it was wonderful."
"What happened? To us? To me?"
END
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