Stay with Krystal

“I’ll have another pint.”

You can see the disappointment in Abigail’s face as you say these words, but you feel the need for another drink. You say goodbye to Abigail, Anissa, Spencer and Blair, and you are alone with Krystal.

“At last,” Krystal says when they’ve gone. She leans over and kisses you, a hard, passionate kiss. You return it with equal passion. “You don’t know how long I’ve been itching to do that. All week I’ve been dreaming about it. Are you sure you want another drink? Or do you want to come back to my place and give me more of this?”

Her hand reaches to your groin, finds the shape of swelling cock and gives it a tight squeeze.

“Is that all you can think about?”

“Oh yes.”

No argument really. You find yourself dragged out of the Drowned Guppy, through the streets and back to Krystal’s place. Her arm wraps around you as you walk, her hand resting against one of your ass cheeks. Your hand snakes around her and reaches up to squeeze one of her prodigious breasts. By the time you reach her flat, your cock is starting to feel uncomfortable. As soon as you’re in, she’s unbuckling your trousers and releasing it.

“Hello boy, I’ve missed you.”

She falls to her knees, and leans in to kiss it, to lick it, to slip it into her mouth, to play with it with her tongue. She tickles the frenulum. She spits on the head. She rubs more spit into it with her hands. With all her ministrations, you’re soon fully hard.

While she sucks your free hand reaches down to grope one breast. You slide her top down, releasing one bra wrapped breast. She’s wearing a lacy, flowery bra, clearly aimed to entice, but you don’t care. All you care about is that the catch is round the front. You fumble with it until it’s free. Then the bra springs off and that one breast is released. Free for your hand to squeeze and mould, feel its weight, flick its nipple.

Krystal pulls back but for a moment a thread of spittle connecting your cock with her mouth. She looks up at you and her hazel eyes are filled with lust. It’s a moment free for action. A moment for you to kick your shoes off, to leave your pooling trousers and boxers on the floor. A moment for her to wrestle with her top and bra, releasing both breasts, huge sagging weights of flesh, her areolas crying out for your lips and your affection.

Before you can give them that, though, Krystal grabs your arm and pulls you further into her flat. Out of the corridor and into her bedroom. You didn’t get that far last time. Her bedroom is a kaleidoscope of shades of pink, pale pink walls, dark pink curtains, patterned pink bedsheets. Bedsheets that you throw Krystal on so you can crawl on top of her, kiss her lips and then descend to the mountains of her tits. At last you can taste the areolas and suck on the nipples. She moans as you do so, wiggling in joy.

You pause to look at her. Her face is a mess from dribbling saliva. Her eyes are pools of lust. Her blond hair is spread across the fields of pink.

“Take me, big boy, take me,” she pleads.

How can you refuse? Her wiggling has not just been in pleasure. She’s used it to slide her knickers down, to raise her skirt up, to reveal her sodden and **** pussy. You crawl up her body, a mountaineer about to reach the summit. Your eyes lock. Your lips clash. You guide your straining, eager manhood to the entrance of her sex. A few rubs through her folds and then you push yourself in. Her sex welcomes you like a long-lost friend. Her moan of satisfaction is only broken by your kisses. Balls deep you pause. She whimpers at that pause. Her eyes plead for you to move. Her breath holds in expectation. Time stands still. Then you start your motion. Easing out. Easing in. Each action gathering speed. Each action gathering ferocity. She wanted this. You’re giving it to her. Her hands are fumbling at the buttons of your shirt, running through the hairs of your chest. With each thrust you look straight into her eyes, straight into her soul, until she closes them in bliss.

Her orgasm strikes. Her body shivers and shakes. Her screams are filled with lust fulfilled. Her breasts bounce. You reach down and grasp them and use them as leverage. What you don’t do is relent. Against the tightening of her pussy, against the flood of fluids trying to push you out, you continue your ****. She wanted this. You’re giving it to her.

“Don’t stop. Don’t stop. God. Don’t stop.”

How could you not comply. Your balls are slapping her ass. You pull out to her entrance, and her fluids spill out to darken the pink sheets. You thrust back in with a squelch accompanied by a guttural moan. It goes on until her second orgasm. An orgasm that devolves her to a quivering bag of flesh and muscles and nerves. And this time you let go. You pump your load into her infertile womb with a grunting, groaning offer. And she accepts your gift with a shivering, spasming moan of relief.

Only when the last seed has left do you roll off her and lie by her side. Both of you exhausted. Both of you exhilarated. Both of you lost in deep breaths, the pinks of the room slowly reforming into reality.

“That was even better than the first time,” Krystal finally speaks. “I don’t recall ever being fucked that good before.”

“You were fantastic yourself,” you tell her, and turn your face to look at her. She’s looking at you. The lust in her eyes has been replaced by satisfaction. Her flushed face is filled with love.

“I don’t care what those other women say. You saw them back there. The way they look at me. They can’t hide what think about me. Anissa with her stupid ideas of sin. Abigail and Spencer thinking they’re better than me, just because I enjoy my body. I’m sorry, a fuck like that is worth a thousand dirty looks and snide comments.”

You lie there until energy returns. Gingerly you pull yourself from the bed. Krystal watches you as you look for your clothes. You’re still wearing your shirt. Your trousers, boxers and shoes are in the hallway. Once you’ve put them back on you return to the bedroom. Krystal hasn’t moved. She’s lying there, only wearing her skirt, bunched up around her thighs to reveal her landing strip of short, dirty blond pubic hair pointing to her red raw, recently fucked pussy. One of her tits has sagged to the side. The other still juts up like a mountain towards the ceiling. Her eyes are flickering with sleep.

“If you ever need to drain that monster like that again, you know how to get me,” Krystal tells you. Oh yes, you do.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

You give her a long, goodbye kiss and then see yourself out the door and back home.