Title: I Done a Bad, Bad Thing
Author: Circe (circe@nucentrix.net)
Date: June 17, 2001
You know those things? Those things you done in your past that you're gonna be shakin your head about in bewilderment for the rest of your natural born days? Well, I gotta tell you, this here is one of mine.
It was a long-ass time ago, if that cuts me any slack. An I was pretty much a completely different person. Who would think this tough old dyke was ever very young, very sexy, and very hetero? And lemme tell you, I was a one of those really beautiful girls. Curly blonde hair down to my ass, big dark eyes, tall, slim, with firm full tits and a butt to match. You know, tanned all over, little denim dresses or skirts, belly shirts, cowboy boots. Remember the old Taco Bell girl? Yep, you got it. I was as hot as that same Texas night in July when this all commenced.
I worked the late shift, 3 pm til midnight, at the T.I. plant that was just down the road from the little apartment I was renting. The plant paid pretty good back then, and as I was a young, single girl, I didn't have much expenses anyway. The pay was good enough to finance me my first Big Ol Truck. Dual back wheels, 4x4, shiny blue, good stereo, and so high off the ground I had to flash my panties good, every time I climbed on up. Damn, I loved that truck.
I was the only female workin that shift, and that had its pros as well as cons. The good part was that pretty much every guy had the hots for me. And the bad part was that pretty much every guy had the hots for me. Know what I mean? I swear, I felt practically hunted sometimes! It's a mixed blessing to be a pretty young girl, it truly is. I was just smart enough to not be fuckin around with any of em. These were blue collar boys with that Madonna/Whore thing goin. I knew I wanted to stay on the Madonna end of it.
So I had no sex life. I had a divorce that had just gone through. I'd gone and done one of those dumb-ass teenage weddings. It lasted just a year and ten months. The guy wasn't just stupid, he'd get liquored up and get mean, too. Held a gun to my head, and that did it. My momma and her lawyer friend came out the next day, packed up my stuff, filed a restraint on his ass, and that was it. Good riddance to bad rubbish, know what I mean?
So I was on my own then, supportin myself, livin alone. I liked it, too, most of the time. But I tell you, there were some nights, lyin there alone in my bed, when I would feel that need just tingle clear through my body, makin my nipples get all hard and achy, makin me feel all wet and kinda swollen down between my legs. I'd tell myself I was just doin it to get some sleep, and I'd slip my hands over my tits, pinch my nipples til it almost hurt, and then slide a hand down between my legs. You know, there's nothing sweeter than stroking a finger through those lips down there, and finding that warm, slick wetness. I swear, I loved it back then when I'd be touchin myself, and I sure loved it later on when I fell in love with women. Nothin else like it in the world.
Looks like I'm digressing, I guess. It was a night in July. Do you all know how terrible hot it can be up in North Texas in the middle of July? It ain't just the heat, it's the humidity, too. Melons and cucumbers get growin so wild and fast that as a kid I used to have a fear the vines would cover the house! It's hot. And it's gonna stay hot til pretty much October.
I got off work, climbed into my truck and headed for the Kwik Stop for some milk and Pecan Sandies. I had this sorta ritual I'd follow when I'd get home after work. I liked to light some vanilla candles, turn the lights kinda low, then curl into my big comfy bed with a book, a big ol glass of milk, and some Pecan Sandies cookies. Come to think of it, I still got that ritual to this very day. I'd taken off my shirt in the truck, and was wearin the top of a little string bikini. I often wore my bathing suit under my regular clothes. It was more comfy than most bras and panties, and plus it made me always ready for a swim. I was paying for my milk and cookies when I saw Boyd, one of my coworkers, come in for a six-pack of Shinerbock. We walked on out together.
I'd always liked Boyd. That was his last name, what we all called him til we pretty much forgot his first. He was a big guy, tall, broad. Not too long out of the Navy, and just a year or so older than me. He'd gone and married a woman near to twice his age and he got a lot of shit about it. She was expecting a baby, too. Many a time I'd listened as he'd confided in me, about his love for his wife, but his doubts about the marriage. About how scared he was about becoming a dad so young, and about how his wife was mad at him just about all the time lately. He was a nice guy. No rocket scientist, but nice. Not handsome, but sure impressive cause of his size and strength. I liked him, and when he invited me to drive on up to the Lake and have a beer, I thought, Why not? And agreed.
I locked my truck and we drove out in his. It was a good night for sittin by the water, drinkin a cold beer. We sat on the tailgate and listened to the waves lappin against the shore. I recall a lot of stars bein out that night, and it seems back then the stars were closer, brighter, then they are to my eyes now days. We were talkin about work, we were talkin about baseball, we were talkin about how hot it was, and then, outta the blue I swear, he leaned over an kissed me.
I was always smarter than most folk wanted to realize. I knew how wrong it was, and how stupid it was, to be kissin this boy. He was a coworker and a friend. He was married to a woman carryin his child in her belly. He had shared his doubts and fears about his marriage, as well as the love he truly felt for her. I knew he was weak and vulnerable. I knew he wasn't gettin laid at home. It was just plain ugly for me to be sittin in the back of his truck lettin him kiss on me. But I did. An next thing you know, I'm kissin him back.
There's times, I'm sorry to say, when a person just don't want to care about wrong and right. This was one of them for me. That boy stood up and lifted me right up in his big arms. When you've always been a tall girl, I think there's something real seductive about being picked up, held. It made me feel little and light, stereotypically feminine. I raised my face to him and his mouth came down on mine again.
Oh man, it was some kiss. I'm thinkin pheromones musta been involved. We were kissin, kissin like we'd invented it. I couldn't get enough of his mouth on mine, his tongue in my mouth. And he smelled so damn good. The tang of the beer mixed with the sunny scent of his hair. He smelled all male, all masculine. His sweat in my nose was the healthy savor of honest work, youth and vigor. I felt a real big passion growing in me. There was no way I wanted to stop.
He finally set me down on the tailgate, our lips never parting. He had big, warm hands, calloused from working, and he reached behind me and undid the string tie of my bikini top.
Oh gawd, he touched my breasts and I moaned into his mouth. I wanted to shriek and growl and groan. Bite him, claw him, make him fuck me now, now, now, until I screamed my climax to the stars overhead. Damn!
I molded my hands over his on my tanned breasts, squeezed his hand hard because I wanted him to grip me tighter. And he did, and then harder still, til I pulled my mouth off his with a gasp. His head dipped low, he pushed my hands aside, and it was his mouth on me, licking the sun-darkened areolae, sucking on my hard nipples. I clutched at his big shoulders, his strong back, loving the sheer size of him. I pulled at his tee shirt, wanting him bare, and he paused to pull the shirt off over his head.
Lust is such an amazing thing. The awful pleasure of it, the frightening intensity. It is mindless and single-minded and wants what it wants.
Goddess forgive me, I raised my butt so he could pull off my shorts. I was vain of my smooth young body, the pretty gold pubic curls in which he buried his face. He kicked off his boots, his Wranglers, his white boxers, and Goddess forgive me again, I lusted for that huge hard cock curvin up at me.
Size, size, size... we'll be debating its importance til Kingdom Come. All I know, is that when I saw that awesome big cock, my stomach did that weird lurch of desire, and what I wanted was to have that thing pushin into me, stretchin me, fillin me up as much as I could take.
I wrapped my strong, long legs around his waist and drew him to me as I sat on the tailgate. We were idiots, all illicit lust and no technique, but that lust we had was pretty strong.
Sharing the goal of gettin that thing inside me as fast as possible, we came together. He pushed against me where I was as warm and wet as a summer's rain. The massive head of his cock pressed into me and I cried out. It was one of those pain and pleasure things. He was so big, but I wanted him so bad. He wet a finger in his mouth and found my throbbing, distended clitoris. His finger circled, circled wetly, then flicked me lightly there. I was making all kinda noise, mostly about how it was good, so good, but too much, but I wanted more, more, more. Typical girl getting fucked in the back of a pickup stuff, I guess.
I was gettin wetter, wetter, and he was easing his way inside my tight pussy. Gawd, he was so big. Not just his cock, he was big all over, massive, strong. I was lying there in the back of his truck, my legs around his waist as he stood panting, trying to get inside me, and I was flashing back to my Grandad's farm. He's been an old mule man, breeding draft mules, using big jacks on Belgium mares. I was rememberin the big red roan jack mounting a young mare. The mare was embarrassingly in season, winking her vulva, squirtin juice all over the place, and the jack had approached her, making that rumbling noise, all big muscles and testosterone.
A donkey jack has bigger balls that a stallion and is about twice as studdy. The jack had reared up, grabbed the mare on the crest of her neck, his huge long penis had swung in the air as he sought her vagina. He'd found her, entered her and fiercely mated.
It had been a sight that frightened me, aroused me, and embarrassed me, but never left my memory. The jack had seemed dangerous in his breeding frenzy, all coarse muscles and rough ardor.
I could feel Boyd shaking as he tried to control himself, tried to go slow and gentle. And suddenly I didn't want slow and I didn't want gentle. I rocked my hips up at him. I incited him with words, begging him to fuck me,
I petted my own tits, pinched my pink nipples. With a groan, he seized me by the hips, held me up slightly in the air, and thrust hard into me.
Oh man, it hurt, and it was bliss. I'd wanted him out of control. I wanted the passion he had for me to overcome everything civilized within him. I wanted him feral, primitive, all balls and no brains.
He was fucking me, fucking me hard, while I whimpered and panted. The sound of his balls slapping against me as he thrust, was strangely similar to the waves on the Lake slapping against the shore.
He scooped me up and I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs around his waist, and we did it standing up, a first and only for me.
My pussy was adjusting to his massive size, and he slid in and out slicked with my wetness. My mouth was buried against his throat where he smelled so good and tasted so salty. I wanted to come. The need was building up in me. I was so bold that night; I whispered in his ear, telling him to make me come, make me come now.
He laid me down on the truck bed again, pulled his cock out of my aching pussy and pressed his mouth down on my clit. His tongue even seemed big, as he laved me there, and suckled me there. I felt his fingers against me, then he pushed one, then two inside of me, fucking me with his fingers while his mouth propelled me towards orgasm.
My legs were over his shoulders, my head thrown back, my skin damp with sweat. I wanted to come, to come so badly.
I squeaked in alarm as I felt another wet finger push into my ass. I'd never done that kind of stuff before and I was shocked. It kind of hurt, but it excited me, too. Everything we were doing was so wrong, so forbidden.
I was gasping, moaning, full with his fingers, his mouth and tongue working me, pushing me to come. With a quick scream, I did, back arching helplessly, starlight liming my face. Coming in waves of sensation that seemed to roll from my pussy, crash over my head, spread like liquid heat throughout my body.
I think I was still coming when his cock returned, thick and heated, to push deep inside me. Boyd's lust had reached the point of no control. I was almost frightened by the intensity of his need, the strength of his drive. He grunted as he shoved even deeper inside. He was using me for his own gratification and somehow this aroused me immensely. Using me, using my female body to assuage himself as a male. Using me with no regard now for my wants, needs. Using me impersonally.
My legs were over his shoulders; he could penetrate me deeply, fully this way. I pushed half fearfully at his chest, and he caught my hands in his and held them down. He was shuddering, breathing hard. A drop of his sweat dripped down upon my belly. Then he threw his head back and his face twisted in an agony of pleasure. I felt his cock jerk inside me. I felt his semen shooting within me. Another never before and never since: I came, excited beyond the need for actual stimulation, I came powerfully, crying out shrilly, contracting around his spent cock, making him cry out, too.
Oh man, oh man, oh man... then there's the post coital blues, where we pulled our bodies apart and stared at each other in horror.
Not a real fun moment. We tried for casual, but it's kinda hard to act casual all covered in sweat and semen and the musk of my pussy. We weren't even good enough friends to quite laugh it off, you know?
It was a pretty grim ride back to my truck. We were too frightened about what we'd done to even take vows of silence and make This'll Never Happen Again promises.
Back at my apartment, the milk that'd been waitin in my truck had gone warm. I stuck it in the fridge and headed for the shower. I puzzled over the regret I was feelin to be washing off his sweat and scent and semen. I dried off, looked at myself curiously in the big mirror. I was all glowing, my eyes seemed bigger, darker, liquid. My lips were swollen, kiss-bruised. My breasts seemed fuller, my nipples pinker. I slipped on a tee shirt and got my cookies, milk and book. I got into my bed, fluffed up my pillows, lit a candle on the nightstand.
But I couldn't read. I had no appetite for milk and Pecan Sandies. I finally switched off the light, blew out the candle. I lay there in the darkness. The air conditioner whirred on and on. I could hear the incessant racket of the cicadas outside.
I couldn't sleep. No matter how I tried to forbid my mind, it kept slipping back to what had just happened. My nipples were hard and tingly against the cotton of my shirt. I ached down there, down at my pussy.
You know that ache, from really good sex, from a really big cock? You know that good, sweet pain that you kinda treasure cause it just keeps remindin you about what you did? About what was done to you? Oh man...
That night, lying there, almost still feeling his cock there inside me, I let my hands move down over my taut nipples, caress down my belly, and stroke through my blonde pubic hair.
Oh gawd, my clit was still so hard, and excruciatingly sensitive. My breath was coming so fast, my eyes were closed in the dark. I dipped a finger through my swollen labia, slid into my pussy. So wet, so wet and flooded with his seed. I tasted it from my fingertip, knowing I would never taste his semen again. Thick salinity, primordial ooze; I licked it from my flesh.
My finger returned, so slim after his cock. The wetness excited me, started me trembling. I fucked myself with a finger, then with two. My other hand moved to press my clitoris, hard, then again.
I was twisting my head on my pillow, my eyes clenched shut, writhing under my own touch. The dark of my room became suffused with the smell of rut. My slippery fingers worked faster, harder, and I was making tiny sounds, little cries.
I chased my orgasm, my mind filled with the memory of being fucked in the back of the truck. I rubbed his semen into my clit, thrust my fingers in and out of my pussy.
Then, there! There! There! Rolling over me, warm and flooding, I was coming, coming so hard, alone in my bed, pulsing with sensation, throbbing with pleasure. Falling asleep finally, body lightly sweat-sheened, fingers still wet.
I guess I must have masturbated to that memory for a long, long time. Felt guilty over it for just about as long, too. Boyd and I never did repeat that act. In fact, we barely talked together at all afterwards, and I guess that's a shame. I hear he went back in the Navy. Course I went on and took over my Grandad's mule farm, so I guess I musta got over my fear of breedin jacks.
I look back on that July night by the Lake, and I do just shake my head. But I've outgrown most guilts now days, and I've come to think that some things just ARE, and don't have to mean anything big. I'll leave it to them fools out in California to think differently.
Here things are slow. Things flow with the seasons. It's breedin season now. Time to get all these mares and jennets settled in foal. And I don't guess I'm gonna be blamin myself too much if I sometimes think of me an Boyd, out there by the Lake, doin that bad, bad thing, coming underneath the stars.
