1. Wild Riding to Dublin


    Date: 7/26/2016, Categories: True Story, Author: classicgal, Rating: 85.7, Source: sexstories.com

    down at me, smiling. “Your wheel’s changed, Miss. So time to say thank you,” he said, sneering, as he produced a semi-hard from his trousers. I didn’t have a lot of options, James, and remember, he had been very helpful. So, I beckoned him down beside me and began to lick and suck his cock to hardness as he started to give my tits a working over, not unlike the one his sergeant had just given them. What is it about these country boys, James – they seem to just love milking big firm titties? At least that’s what I’ve gone on to discover time and time again since our divorce. Hope you’re missing milking them yourself. Anyway, my rescuer James definitely didn’t want to come in my mouth, he wanted to shoot up me. But a moment’s investigation confirmed to him what the sergeant had experienced, I was way too wet. So he grabbed the hem of a greatcoat, fashioned the coarse gabardine into a cone shape and stuffed it up me like an improvised tampon and twisted it round inside my vagina while I continued to wank him. I must say the greatcoat was a unique experience and quite enjoyable. When he felt I was dry enough he entered me again and began to ride. The others had turned around since the sergeant left and were shouting words of encouragement to us both. Strangely, this was a turn-on as I found their comments empowering me again – fuck it, James, I was showing off. Yes, I felt back in control. These boys had come to my aid and weren’t going to harm me, so I gave them a good show. ...
    Soldiers were on their knees around me as James humped; cocks were everywhere, but the boys were out of luck – the best I could do was wank the occasional one, no sucking, as James was kissing me passionately as he rode. We came together, with me soaking his trousers from squirting. He pulled out too soon for me, though – I’m sure you remember how I hate that, especially when I’m still coming. So, I stuck my own fingers in and finished myself off as my audience cheered, wanked and ejaculated. Yes, my hair, tits and face finished up covered with soldier’s spunk – you didn’t know that when you fucked me later, did you James? It was still pouring when I clambered down from the truck and they drove off. I wiped as much spunk from my hair, face and body as I could with an old scarf I had in the car. I then dressed, reapplied some makeup and lipstick by the glow of the interior light, and tried to disguise my dishevelment as best I could. I was sure you’d be horrified when you saw me at the airport, but you weren’t. To a cursory glance I didn’t look too bad. Sure under my jacket, the only garment still dry, I was wringing wet. But the soaked sweater, skirt and the high heels seemed to impress you, and the ripped stockings were a bonus, maybe a bit punkish with the laddering. And, of course, the no-knickers look proved especially welcome. Certainly, the just-fucked look definitely turned you on that night, remember? By then I’d decided against titillating you with what had happened. A ...
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