Pamela Rushes Back

Pamela hurried back to the volunteer table, trying not to think about whay she’d heard, seen, and being propositiones.

Thi left her feeling itched for the time to zip by.

As their day came to an end, she tried to avert her eyes from the women and two men who had come to help load everything into the vans and help the Ladies of Luck on their way.

Recognizing them, and stuck thinking only of their nude forms intertwined sexually in the washroom.

Pamela found herself dreading the next visit there, a strange foreign and deep haunting regret plaguing her for not having given in to the impulse to watch more fully, closely, or even try join the fucking in the men’s washroom.

She questioned how such a modest person could think to do such things, never mind in such a filthy place.

Eager to expell the arousing tension she felt Pamela rushed home.

Awkwardly she secluded herself away in her bedroom, leaving their to maid bustle about assorted tasks as Pamela struggled to find her most indecent secret.

It had been so long since she’d used it, the shoe box it was secreted away in long buried and forgotten amidst too many boxes of shoes in Pamela’s walk in closet.

But once Pamela found it, there was a feral response.

Awkwardly clothing was tugged, disheveled and awkwardly displaced, the first touch of the small vibrator causing a squeal of relief, followed by half hearted attempts to single handedly finish undressing while one hand stroked the smooth 5” shaft in and out of her pussy, its angle broad and shallow as Pamela’s underwear resisted its hurried bypass.

Pamela trembled in pleasure as she felt the toy slips smoothly, buzzing heavily as it tried to fulfill her pussy's hunger.

Groping a tit, the raven haired woman questioned what had come over her today. The all too eager acceptance of some strange and unexpected middle aged sexual awakening shushing any other debate as Pamela just accepted what little relief she had found here, rolling and squirming on her closet floor.

God… was she really any different than that woman earlier? Pamela wondered, as she continued to fuck herself, unsure she would resist making use of any entrant who might be willing to partake in pleasuring herself.

Wondering what it would be like, to be intruded upon in the midst of a wild, urgent fuck. Having the new entrant join the frenzy in a quest to slay their primordial needs with combined pleasure.

As the physical sensations failed to be enough, Pamela’s mind rapidly grabbed hold of those thoughts. Their lewdness, their carnality.

Their impropriety.

She thought about someone finding her like this, and taking over use of the toy, teasing her, entertaining tehmself, or outrightly fucking her.

She considered whether that woman had walked into the men’s room, stripping and soliciting for them to fulfill her needs.

Pamela found her mind wandering further and further, gradually shifting to kneeling amidst a circle of men, sucking each and everyone of them off for their silence, all in promise of future infidelity.

Her mind locked on the maid, head held by her bun between Pamela’s legs, ass raised high waiting for Pamela's husband to get home…

Pamela stiffened and shivered in climax. She felt the spray of her juices erupt to splatter off the barely displaced panties. The shock of the orgasm holding her stiffly until it passed, collapsing Pamela like a ragdoll onto the floor.

God what had she done? God it was so fucking hot… The imagined scenario having triggered the orgasm lingered, like a bad taste in her mouth as it clung to her mind as she lazily got up, slowly freeing herself of the disheveled clothes she had failed to remove sooner.

As quick as they hit the hamper Pamela set about what to change into, pausing to admire her figure in the full body mirror, she admitted she still looked pretty solid for a woman in her forties.

Cupping her palm sized breasts, Pamela fought the urge to just lay back on her bed naked to toy with herself until her husband came home.

The idea that she could be there hours stirring a strange perverse delight of her vulnerability to being discovered by someone sooner…

What would is be like to have the maid go down on her?

Pamela tried to shake the new perverse questions and thoughts.

Eventually Pamela emerged from her closet, sports bra and yoga pants on.

Grabbing a windbreaker she zipped it up, and set out for a jog.

Pamela didn’t remember the last time she went for a run, nor could she explain why she felt the drive to do so now.

She only hoped it would still the stir crazy she was feeling.

Stride by stride she fought not to think about the sexual thoughts constantly trying to the surface a the top of her mind.

Pamela didn’t notice the brisk pace of her stride, or the lack of fatigue tugging on her as she wove aimlessly, stride by stride through the neighborhood.

She paused at times to check the time, only to notice the coincidence of where she halted.

Margo’s house.

Tess’s house.

Catherine’s house.

As Pamela paused a fourth time, before Laura’s house she noticed the time. I should get back, Pamela considered, continuing her pace, and for the first time all run displacing the sexual thoughts and desires with a conscious thought on her route home.

Around the corner, down a park path, Pamela strode easily towards a staircase down to a decked path through a ravine that would easily more than half the distance she had run to Laura’s house.

Pamela enjoyed the thunder of her feet as she paced down the steps, as the deck boards applauded her pace Pamela was smirking as she thought of how nice it would be to hear that same noise from her head board off the wall at home later.

Jogging down the decked route, Pamela broke her pace as she came across a crowd of men lingering about on the walkway.

While it wasn’t unusual to encounter the odd homeless man navigating through these paths, the gathering of close to 10 men was unusual to say the least.

Slowing first to a walk, then to a slow walk Pamela nodded gently to the first man she started to pass.

She couldn’t quite make out their words, but their tone, and gazes excited her. Pamela shook her head to try and shake the lewd thoughts free, dismissing the notion she recognized a couple of them from the soup line earlier at Lion’s Head park.

The thought of the park made her realize, the ravine paths wound through out the city. Pamela started to map out in her head how they might connect there, questioning how long it could take to run there.

Bumping her wrist against one of the men Pamela found herself pulled back from the question of how she could possibly run to Lion’s Head Park, gripping her wrists where is seemed to flash with warmth and a static like shock.

Her hand wiped a gooey substance free from where he wrist had made contact.

“Sss…sorry…” Pamela muttered looking first to the strangely attractive if grungy looking older man, before gazing down his naked chest to see clearly nothing worn beneath his trench coat, the largest hard cock Pamela had ever seen reaching out towards her.

Pamela’s eyes were stuck on it, mesmerized, disgusted, aroused, repulsed, and torn between a hundred lurid thoughts and social indignation all at once.

Pamela watched as it sat there, glossy with precum, beckoning for use.

“I smell a skank in the wanting.” He lewdly remarked, his voice reminding Pamela of the one she heard call out Agatha while fucking in the washroom earlier.

Realizing her frozen state Pamela mumbled trying to find words, looking up and down the line of men to see them each equally, or moving to expose themselves to her. Hands reaching to stroke hard shafts Pamela struggled to react.