Melissa’s Personal Time
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A quick scene which popped into being for no apparent reason. In this one, it’s Melissa’s once-a-week personal time, a time where she lets rip and allows her mind a free run.
It was fun to write. I hope you get some enjoyment out of it.
Thank you for reading.
GA – Da Nang, Vietnam – 2nd of May 2015.
She’s dressed for sex. Nothing more elaborate than hold-ups and heels. But simple is best. Simple suits her needs. She doesn’t have time to play dress-up.
Anticipation churns in the pit of her stomach. Her tummy aches, like a barrel of sour apples. She’s desperate. Her pussy feels swollen and hot while her clit pulses with a life all of its own.
Melissa throws a glance at the clock and wills him to leave. “Go,” she mutters, fists tight knots at her sides. “Please … just fuck off.”
Guilt flashes immediately. Her fraught incantation shames Melissa as she looks towards the full-length mirror. It’s come to this. Her urges have led her to bad-mouthing her son so she can wallow in a pit of depravity.
Her reflected image sucks on its lower lip, eyes sliding away.
For a moment, she can’t look at herself.
“Please, John,” Melissa mumbles more kindly. “Just go to school, babe.”
Her throat works as she gulps down on the frustration, eyes back on the mirror. She shivers while studying her voluptuous curves, insides clenching as though she already had the length of it inside her. Melissa’s hands cup her breasts, forefingers teasing the fleshy teats of her nipples to swollen arousal.
“Oh God,” she whines, squirming, unable to control the urges rising inside her.
One hand goes down between her legs. She’s smooth except for the precisely sculpted triangle at the apex of her slit. One finger slowly diddles her excited clit, the remnant of her dark pubic bush scratchy against her palm.
Melissa considers abandoning her plan. The need is getting too urgent to resist. He’s never going to leave. She could fall back onto the bed and rub at herself. She could let it all go and fuck two fingers into her cunt, her climax assured as her body squelches and farts around those probing digits.
She squeezes her breasts, wincing, all hot-eyed and slack-lipped, the sight of the woman in the mirror goading her towards a quick, urgent masturbatory frenzy.
“Fuck … Oh fuck,” she hisses, close to succumbing. It’s so unfair. “Once a week, that’s all…
Once … A … Fucking … WEEK!”
The sound of her son’s voice snaps back her focus. Day-to-day reality takes her need off the boil when he calls up the stairs. “I’m going, Mum! See ya!”
Jubilant at John’s departure, Melissa forces herself to wait a full ten minutes. She doesn’t want her son walking in on her because he forgot something. It takes self-discipline, but the humiliation of being caught outweighs her desire – for the time being, at least.
Sitting on the foot of the bed, Melissa thinks about where she’s going to go, attention rapt on her own reflection.
Sleaze, she decides, in the mood for dirty and nasty. Degradation, she thinks, the word snickering at her from some dark corner of her mind.
Anonymous cocks in a glory-hole morning.
The allotted time of self-denial passes like an ice-age.
The waiting is agony, interminable. She squirms and wriggles, impatient, even grinding her teeth as the pressure builds and her body clamours for attention.
With a minute to go, Melissa stands and turns, presenting her rump to the mirror. She bends at the waist, tilting her pelvis while splaying the globes of her buttocks, labia separating with tacky reluctance, her glistening core exposed.
It’s a shocking, vulgar sight, but she understands what men find so appealing in the ugly beauty of that fleshy mollusc. The thought occurs to Melissa in a flare of yearning: If I could, I’d lick it myself, which is something to bear in mind for the following Thursday. Melissa has never been with a woman, but the idea hold abrupt, libidinous appeal.
Who?, she wonders, casting about for a friend or acquaintance she’d be willing to kiss. What would it be like snogging another woman? How would she feel squeezing another girl’s tits and tasting her sex?
Imagine looking down to see her licking your pussy…?
Spare flesh ripples when Melissa slaps a palm against one buttock. She grins at her reflection, an eyelid dropping to one cheek in a lascivious wink. “Mucky old tart,” she breathes, a thrill of anticipation heating her blood as the final seconds tick down.
Finally, it’s over and the words come out, thick and clotted: “Playtime,” she gurgles, then goes to the wardrobe to find it.
When she’s got what she’s looking for, Melissa uses the stairs and descends two levels. Although there’s little chance of being disturbed – her son is at school and Sean’s weekday commute began hours before – once on the ground floor canlı bahis she locks the front door in a precautionary measure.
Her heels peck at the tiles as she strides across the kitchen, the sound somehow illicit: a streetwalker touting for business. Melissa’s stockings and heels and bare skin add spice to the mix. She’s got the dense lump of moulded rubber in one hand, a recent acquisition, its oversized mass too lewd to resist when she’d seen it advertised online.
She surveys the fridge door and assesses the height before pressing the sucker against it.
“God yes,” Melissa breathes, lust a hot tide, desire ballooning in her chest when she sees the obscenity hanging there.
There’s pain when she kneels, the tiles hard against her patellae. It’s uncomfortable, yes, but the scene doesn’t call for comfort. It’s better this way. More real.
The fridge door is now a partition. In Melissa’s mind’s eye she’s in some sleazy club, a sex-club of course, an unknown man’s appendage thrust through the aperture bored in the wall.
She moans when she grabs at his cock, one hand at her sex while she strokes the length of him, her eyes fixed on the knobbed shaft all criss-crossed with veins, the bumps and protrusions moulded into the dildo for her specific enjoyment.
“Don’t come too soon,” Melissa warns the man. “Let me suck you first.”
She starts slow, tugging at him while flicking her tongue at the keel of his length.
“You like it?” Melissa purrs, chuckling. She cranks at it, excitement blooming. It’s dirty and sleazy. She’s down on her knees with a cock in her hand. She can hear the man breathing. His short gasps tell her he loves what she’s doing. Melissa groans, “Do you like it like this? Is it good this way?” Her pussy sucks at her fingers. Carnal need yaws. “What about if I suck it?”
Her pussy slick with desire beneath her squirming fingers when Melissa purses her lips to take the big dome of it into her mouth.
It isn’t her kitchen, it isn’t her home – it’s a scene of debauchery, a sordid place where people gather to engage in lewd acts.
She gets to it, gomming at him, slurping and sucking and slobbering until her head jerks back-and-forth, her fingers working at the sluice of her sex. She gags and splutters, coughing when she gets carried away.
“God … Oh fuck,” gasps Melissa, eyes watering as she wipes a hand at the shivering hawsers of silvery drool dangling from her chin.
She spits on it, greasing the pole before staggering to her feet, knees cracking, thighs screaming in protest. Melissa ignores the pain, heels click-clacking as she turns and then backs onto the dildo, her body so slippery with desire she takes almost the whole length in one delicious glide. The smooth, broad head of it nudges her vulva.
Melissa groans and winces when it splits her open. “Oh fuck,” she moans in a deep, bestial low of absolute pleasure. “God, yes … Let me fuck it. Let me fuck…”
She grunts, pushing back hard.
“Give it to me,” Melissa snarls. “Use me. I don’t care who you are, just give me your cock.”
Her mind takes her there: anonymous sex with a stranger. It’s morally reprehensible behaviour. Her friends would be shocked if they knew.
It could be a cubicle in a sex shop. Free and easy. Just filthy, fucking with a man she’s never seen before. He can be young or old, fit or fat; Brad Pitt or Quasimodo – none of that matters. Melissa’s only concern is the size of his dick.
If he’s big and hard it’s enough for her. She’s mad for it, crazy for cock. Marital sex isn’t enough. She needs the depravity, the wickedness. The seediness turns her on.
Melissa fucks onto the dildo, hands mauling her breasts. She sobs with frustration when her heels slip on the tiles. The fridge rocks. There’s a clatter inside when something falls.
It isn’t enough. She can’t get onto the thing like she wants.
“Shit,” snarls Melissa, knees buckling when her shoes slip and slide, heels skrawking the tiles like nails down a chalkboard.
She writhes and reaches back to grab at the fridge but there’s no proper handhold. It’s no good; there just isn’t enough friction to get her the climax she craves.
Melissa slows, whimpering.
Ire rises and Melissa pushes back hard, cursing as the fridge rocks once again.
“Bollocks,” she snaps, teeth grinding as she slides off the dildo, her need a primitive, visceral ache.
Melissa feels the fantasy slipping away, and, thwarted in her efforts and spitting mad, pulls the dildo off the fridge.
“Shit, you fucking fucker,” she snarls when the sucker lets go with a pop. “Don’t fucking do this.”
She’s desperate, frantic, the fantasy fading.
“No,” Melissa gasps – there has to be an alternative.
It comes to her, the answer so obvious.
She needed a cubicle, somewhere small, a place where she could reach out and press against the walls with her hands…
And it was there all the time. Just a few bahis siteleri paces away. She’d walked past it earlier as she locked the front door.
Her heels click-clack against the floor as she stalks from the kitchen, the sound turning to a hollow thunk-thunk-thunk of shoes against parquet flooring when she moves into the hall.
Melissa is so intent with her purpose she’s babbling as she hauls open the cloakroom door.
She looks in at the toilet and sink. “Perfect,” she coos, satisfied and smug, then steps inside and pulls the door to.
And it is. Even the acoustics are faultless as Melissa groans in delight, the dildo stuck to the wall, its girth filling her.
Her mind takes her back to her sordid playground. She begins to move, head filled with impressions. She presses her palms against solid walls while she savours the moment. It’s the nasty, dirty glory-hole. She’s back! There’s a stranger behind the partition, his length stuffed in her cunt.
“I’m a slut,” Melissa whines, the mirror above the sink catching her face slack with desire. She blinks at the image, her own features unrecognisable as she fucks onto the root of some anonymous lover. “Use me. Fuck me … How many of you are there back there?”
She senses he’s close. Melissa hangs onto the sink with one hand, a shoe up on the toilet seat, her other hand jammed against one wall. She yelps when she feels him pulse inside her, the hand from the sink going between her thighs as she lunges forward off his cock. Melissa swivels, squatting as she goes, fingers mushing through her vulva, his cum already spitting.
One element Melissa particularly enjoys during these precious minutes alone is the power she has to control the little details. If she wants an enormous cock, all she has to do is will it into existence. If her requirements lean towards something softer and more subtle – perhaps some lesbian frolic in the weeks to come? – All she needs to do is imagine the scene, and voila!
For filthy glory-hole sex it’s about long, thick cocks and lashings of cum. And this boy doesn’t disappoint her. She feels him pulse, hears him grunt and, while she rubs her sex and squats before him, there’s gallons of it. Jizm squirts from the man, the hot stuff catching Melissa across her cheek. Spunk flicks across the bridge of her nose, dollops of it spattering against her forehead before she manages to stem the rush with her mouth. He pours cum into her. The stream seems endless.
Melissa loves it, adores the hot rush of filling her mouth. His groans, the throb of the big muscle at the root of his dick and the taste of spunk thrill her. It’s Melissa’s fantasy and she wants him to choke her with his cock, to drown her in spunk.
Her first orgasm hits her as gooey fluid brims from her mouth. She can’t contain the outpouring. There’s just too much of the stuff for her to manage.
Melissa rubs at her clit with a vigorous forefinger, two digits sliding into her opening as she gives it up and slumps back onto the floor. She’s on her bottom, legs wide, one hand sawing her sex as one final squirt hits her on the stomach.
She comes, panting and grunting, squeals and mewls bursting forth as Melissa surfs the wave of pleasure.
“More,” Melissa gasps as she eyes the cum-smeared jib. She scrambles onto her hands and knees to haul herself upright like a 2 a.m. drunk. “Give me more cock.”
She slurps at the thing dangling through the hole. Melissa can taste her own desire, lust resurgent when she imagines it slipping back through the aperture, another replacing it instantly.
Eying the newcomer, Melissa grins. She reaches for him.
“You want me to suck it before we fuck?”
Melissa goes through three of them. She comes as they unload over her face, her hair and her breasts.
Lust is an arterial burst when she finally stands up fully and sees herself in the mirror. Melissa is plastered with jizm. It’s everywhere. Snotty ropes cling to her hair; there’s a viscous slide of it oozing down her cheeks; spunk dribbles in rivulets over her skin. She smears it across her breasts while surveying her ruined stockings, cum foaming beneath her palms.
At least three orgasms and still she needs more. Melissa’s libido snarls, a ravenous, slavering fiend which is nowhere near sated. Her mind screams for more perversion, a scene darker and much more obscene. The mood is on her. It’s been growing for a week. Glory-hole fucking isn’t enough. One cock at a time won’t feed the beast.
She grabs at the dildo, yanking it free, a new scene already embedded in her head.
There’s a sofa in the kitchen, a two-seater set against one wall. Over the years, it’s been the site of much domestic peace. Melissa has shared it with her husband, her son and many of her friends. But that morning it was destined to be used as a stained mattress in a gangbang scene of extreme depravity.
Melissa approaches, the sound bahis şirketleri of her heels click-clacking across the tiles putting her in mind of some echoing hallway. Again, she’s no longer in her kitchen; no longer safe and secure inside her own home. In her mind’s eye she sees grubby concrete walls splashed with graffiti. It’s dank and musty, redolent of urine and decay, the floor littered with the detritus of the underclass. There are empty bottles and cans scattered about. Melissa sees old newspapers swollen with damp. Shrivelled snakeskins of used condoms lay hither and yon, evidence the place is often used as for libidinous purposes. But there won’t be any condoms today. Melissa needs the perversion to get her off fully. It has to nasty and filthy, as wicked as she can make it. For Melissa to be completely satisfied it has to be bareback fucking with multiple men.
She moans, the sounds of her shoes coming back at her off the rough walls and floor and ceiling as she makes her way along a narrow corridor, a staccato beat of the obscene which ceases when she arrives at the threshold to the chamber.
She’s there, in the doorway, the mattress waiting for her while furtive men lurk in the shadows.
Melissa gulps -How many are there?
Again, they’re amorphous entities, shapes with no substance. Melissa doesn’t need details. She doesn’t care who they are or what they look like.
It’s about the numbers now.
Come in, a deep voice beckons. Come in. Get on the bed.
The alpha male detaches from the wall. He smiles at Melissa, the grin filled with evil intent. She recognises him as the young man from over the road, the one who always fucks her with his eyes when they chance to meet in the street.
Suck it, he growls while fisting an erection of gargantuan proportions.
In the kitchen, Melissa perches on the sofa, thighs wide, one hand going at her sex while she slurps at the dildo. She’s flying, pussy awash while her mind conjures images of huge cocks as men crowd round her. Of course they’re all big, and of course each one will be capable of pouring unlikely volumes of cum over her – but that’s the way she wants it. Melissa needs it that way.
The settee has seen much debauchery in its time. Its cushions have supported Melissa’s bare buttocks during energetic trysts with well-muscled young lovers. She’s ridden their long cocks and sobbed through climax after climax, juddering and gasping while pleasure surged through her. Melissa has offered herself on hands and knees, rump presented to her husband’s friends, patients from the practice she works at as a dentist, the hot young thing who dropped off an Amazon parcel a month before, and a host of other men she’s used as fodder for her fantasy’s voracious appetite.
Sometimes, when in a tender mood, she drifts along with a single lover. It can be all hazy and gentle, a vague romance where she’s cherished and loved, flowers and riverbanks and picnics; somnolent afternoons filled with soft sighs and long kisses with a lover who only wants to see her fulfilled.
But, more often than not it’s more to do with something dark and illicit. Her imagination puts her in murky scenarios she’d never consider for real. Melissa can’t help it, can’t stop it. She adores the taboo but isn’t brave enough to live the dark obscenities her mind summons so easily.
In reality, Melissa would be appalled by the prospect of a dozen men pouring their seed into her unprotected body. But there, on her sofa and inside her mind, she’s more than willing to allow them to come at her. She’ll take them all on until she’s drained every last one – a couple of them twice, the sheer wrongness of it the spark to dry tinder.
Melissa sucks the alpha’s cock before sprawling backwards onto the mattress, her legs loose and her thighs wide.
Her fingertips splay the meaty petals of her sex. “Fuck me,” she whines, seeing herself through the eyes of one of the slack-jawed participants arranged around her.
In that vision, she’s on her back, the man laid between her legs. His buttocks flex as he grunts at her. She sees herself reaching for the nearest erection, a hand jacking at the first cock she finds. It goes on for some time, her lover pumping away, her shoes waggling while she sucks one cock after another, the men pressing close in their eagerness to be at her.
One man groans while tugging vigorously, his dick aimed at Melissa’s face. “Fuck,” he gasps. “Shit…”
“Yes!” Melissa squeals in triumph. “Give it to me.”
She squirms and struggles and manages to lift up onto her elbows, offering her mouth to his outpouring.
The alpha dog bellows and lets go inside her while Melissa has her lips pursed around the other man’s dick. She’s taking two loads at once – one in her mouth and one in her pussy, with more men keen to replace them.
Spunk rushes from her when the first one withdraws from her sex. He chuckles and shakes his head at the slide of jizm oozing from Melissa’s core, his gloop trickling down the crease of her buttocks.
“I knew you’d be dirty,” he smirks. “I could tell the first time I saw you. You come across hoity-toity, but you’re just a slut.”
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