1. Wild Riding to Dublin - A Sequel


    Date: 1/11/2015, Categories: True Story, Bondage and restriction, Cuckold, Written by women, Author: classicgal, Rating: 53.3, Source: sexstories.com

    I struggled to walk with my tight skirt now down round my high heels and while I was concentrating on staying upright he secured my wrists to the kitchen taps. I was aware of him bending down behind me, then suddenly the constriction around my ankles was freed. I glanced down, he’d ripped through my fucking skirt! I started to try to kick at him back and sideways, till he warned me, ‘Keep that up and I’ll tape your legs so wide apart you’ll think you’re doing the fucking splits!’ His hands flew around from behind me, grabbed the lapels of my blouse and ripped the garment apart. Little white buttons flew everywhere. I felt the blade on my shoulders and I froze. Snick, snick and he slashed my bra off. He spoke intimately into my ear, I could feel his body against me. ‘In your story you said you hoped I was missing milking your big firm tits – well, that wasn’t a very nice thing to say, was it?’ He grabbed my breasts and pulled them forward, at the same time kicking my legs apart. ‘Bend over. I want to make sure your arsehole is well cleaned out after milk-bottle cock filled it,’ he said, laughing. My cheek was now pressing against the granite worktop, my arms stretched out along the stone towards the taps. He had bodily pulled me by the waist backwards till both halves of my body were at right angles to one another. He kicked my legs further apart again. I could feel him fumbling behind me, then I felt his cock semi-erect against my inner thigh – but I felt no threat. ...
    Familiarity breeds contempt. When I saw him grab the washing-up liquid bottle I knew what he planned to do. I felt the viscous liquid squirt over my private parts – ass and vagina – then something that wasn’t his dick was pushed into my anus. ‘I’m sure you really miss the demise of the milkman,’ he said, ‘milk-bottles are hard to come by these days and the supermarket plastic containers are no substitute!’ I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of asking what he’d shoved up there, I knew he’d be keen for me to know. ‘That big pepper-mill your mother gave us comes in handy, though, doesn’t it?’ He laughed as he added, ‘She’s got one similar, hasn’t she? Probably uses it regularly to bring herself off ever since your dad passed away.’ That was it, I lost it. I kicked wildly, trying to stab his feet and legs with my heels but it was all grist to his mill. As I fought I could feel his cock swelling, especially when I caught him on the ankle with a heel and he began to beat me viciously with his hand. Suddenly, I felt the plug pulled from my ass; my hips were lifted, and his cock slipped up me amid a slime of Fairy liquid. As he rode me he concentrated on pulling my breasts in the fashion I’d often seen farmers milking cows’ teats as a young girl – indeed, thinking of that now I’m not sure there wasn’t some paedophiliac grooming subtext there on at least a couple of occasions – but there was nothing erotic about this. ‘Yes,’ he growled as he was closing in on ejaculating, ‘in future, ...
«12345»