2 Jul 2007

El Nina is apparently intent on making this a rather moist summer in the good’ol UK. I say “Bring it on, bitch” – that’d be the Celtic blue blood in my veins hankering after the misty highlands of my bearded, kilt wearing antecedents – and, anyway, there were no April showers and we all know that the weather will be glorious in the run up to Christmas. The cyclical nature of the seasons is itself on a slide. We must adapt and invent new meteorological aphorisms.

Anyway, I don’t mind if I spend every day of the next three months inside, in bed – just as long as a certain young woman is with me for some of the time. I have had the good fortune to meet this absolute toe-curler.

She’s half my height. The last fling I had was with a girl who, in heels, was as tall as me, something which I really enjoyed as I didn’t have to bend down as often as normal to snog her silly. However, I prefer having someone slightly more diminutive than that writhing above, below and against me.

She told me she was 23 but it turns out she’s just turned twenty. That’s ten years younger then me. Last night I spent a few hours curled up with a long-term occasional amore who is 17 years my senior at 47, but whom, down to a combination of excellent genes and a predilection for long hours spent mountain-biking over the lowlands of Fife, has a bottom that could crack walnuts. I have nothing but an unhealthy fascination for the elder woman and the age gap is of no importance. The younger woman normally presents no moral dilemma to me either but a whole decade younger? I know at twenty I was missing the point on many things (but isn’t that always the case with self-retrospection?) so I think that maybe her mind might grate upon mine. No fear of that though as it turns out she’s quite possibly smarter than I was at twenty, and am presently at thirty and, more than likely, than I will ever be. Which, in my personal opinion, is saying something.

I met her at a mate’s stag do. She came over with a bunch of friends and ninety minutes later we were walking back to hers. I know, not a good show on a stag – Bro’s before Hoes and all that razzmatazz but, hey, I wanted a taste of this black skinned, bounteous, purportedly innocent honey who spent most of the walk home with her nose jammed in my armpit inhaling the mix of essence d’Bruce and some rather fancy JP Gautier deodorant that came back with my mum from HK.

So, three weeks later I drive back up for what I believe is termed a ‘booty-call.’ She called me, I came running. She’s just so damn tasty and tight. I get there at lunch time and she tastes of curried chicken, which I like. Straight to her bedroom and let the fucking begin. It was good fucking. Good, honest, full-on fucking. Then we had to have a moment of repose and my hands wandered, once more, to seize her sexiful butt cheeks and squeeze the flesh there within hard. I love her bottom. I think the technical Ebonics term is ‘thick’. Helluva thick.

She lies on her front with navy blue knickers covering her cheeks. I guide them into her crevice with a thumb and forefinger and massage the chocolate orbs revealed. I hear her moan quietly and I can’t help myself. I have to broach the subject, the subject that was in the back of my head from the moment she first bent over to sit down.

“So, babe, what d’ya reckon about anal sex?” I tensed for her reaction, ready to defend my face from her frequent and, if the truth be told, quite enjoyable slaps of mock and not-so-mock rage. None came.

“Well, I’ve never done it but I have thought about it.”

“Really? I thought you said you were awfully innocent. I told you that was bollocks.”

“I suppose you’ve done it lots of times.”

“A few.”

“Lost count haven’t you.”

“I have no memory. You know that.”

“So, do you wanta try it?”

(FUCK YES!)”Yeah, if you’re into it.”

“I’ll try it for you.”

“Okay – shit, great. Well, I’ll just loosen you up a bit, pass the lube.”

“What, with your fingers? That’s gross!”

“Baby, I’m gonna be sticking my cock up there in a minute – it’s not gross and it’ll relax you so it won’t hurt as much. Trust me.”

“No. Just lube your cock up and slide it in. Slowly!”

“Okay, I’ll go slow and gentle. Let me know if it hurts too much for you and I’ll stop.”

“Wait, put some music on first. Just random play on the computer.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t go anywhere.” as I jump from the bed and skip across the floor with my boner slapping lube all over my chest and legs and the carpet and, oops, a little on the screen there.

She lies on her side and I lift her top cheek and position my red head against the ring of her dark pucker. She’s always going on about how thick my cock is and looking at her arsehole and then at my shaft she has a point, I concede. “You ready baby? Breath in and out slowly.”

“Okay.” So, to cut an intensely enjoyable penetration short, pretty soon she’s on all fours and I’m sliding my oiled cock into her back passage with increasing vigour and thrust. I start to get carried away and pile in hard and deep and fast and she screams. I immediately stop and ask if she’s alright and she tells me she’s fine – “Jesus, fuck my arse some more Bruce.” So I do, my strokes becoming occasionally erratic as I feel my mind begin to melt and my balls spasm. I’ve been fucking her arse hard for about ten minutes now. I could come at any point but I’m keeping it tight and enjoying the view of my pink penis sliding from view in and out of her sweet black arse. She’s pushing back against my strokes slightly and her head is drooping from her shoulders. She has uttered a couple of low, guttural groans and screamed a few more times but I did not stop to see if she was alright – I was selfish and horny and hard and she kept pushing back against me.

The music stops. She lifts her head and turns it slightly to say “I don’t know how much longer I can do this for. Come inside me.” The next tune starts – it’s a jungle tune, one of Pendulums I think and that’s all I need. I get up on my feet so my knees are just behind her shoulders and I pound the fuck out of her. She starts screaming again, loudly and amidst all this sweat and sex I remember that the windows are open and she sounds like she’s getting murdered but, as it goes in such fits of passion, I couldn’t care less. She’s screaming and I’m making strange moaning noises that I can’t control and then I feel my cock spasm as my balls evacuate themselves and I pump my cum deep into her bowels.

The Pendulum tune was called ‘Slam.’ Particularly fitting we thought.

We went out to meet some of her friends then came back and fucked some more. She wanted me to cum inside her again but as she’s not on the pill it was the arse or nothing. She was up for it but worried that she was still too sore. She went to the bathroom and came back and told me she was still bleeding. I had ruptured her. “Okay, baby, come here and lets just fuck some more.”

“No – it’s okay – let’s try my arse again. If you want.”

Well, fuck yes!

But it was too sore and, though she tried like a trooper to take it, she couldn’t.

Later, with her head cradled in my armpit, again, I challenged her that there was no way that she hadn’t done that before – to just take the suggestion, my fat cock and the absolute demonic shagging so aptly in her stride – I insisted that she was fibbing, that she’d been fucked in the arse before. She insisted she hadn’t. I’m not convinced – either she’s lying to turn me on or she is, as I am beginning to suspect, just fucking special in multiple fields of physical and mental endeavour.

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bruce! i'm back in action. you should be too
 
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