My Sexual Odyssey Part V: A Real Whore - Sex Stories

My Sexual Odyssey Part V: A Real Whore

The next morning as I awoke, I realized that in just a few hours I was to re-experience the previous day’s activities. This seemed too much too soon, but I had agreed. Of course I could always cancel, but then if I did so I would wonder how much I’d miss it and whether I would have acclimated to the frequency and intensity. I decided to just forge ahead and so I got dressed and left for work, girly clothes under my street clothes and wig in hand. I thought to myself, “This is ridiculous.” Still, I went ahead, determined to see it through. It seemed as if I had just left Brad, and here I was, about to see him again, for yet another fuck session. I really was’t sure about this. The morning dragged on, and as I was about to meet Brad, I summoned up my courage and resolved to proceed. Why was I making this sound like an ordeal to be endured rather than an experience to be enjoyed? Maybe because of the ambiguity inherent in the nature of the ‘date’, as well as my ambivalent feelings toward it. Anyway, as the time for us to meet approached, I was becoming more and more aroused at the thought of being fucked like a cheap whore. Why was this so arousing? Was there something intrinsically exciting about being treated that way? It seemed that there was, but what? I was determined to get to the bottom of it. At any rate, at least I had access to the experiences needed to find out. Well, no more time to ponder the deeper meanings of all this. I left the office with my wig in a bag, ...

... and spied the waiting truck. Again the rear door was ajar, and so again I dashed in, donned my wig, and undressed, just in time for Brad to join me. “Hi sexy!” “Hi Brad. How are you?” “Horny as hell. Are you ready to fuck?” “Well what girl could resist such sweet talk?” “Do you really need some?” “I suppose not.” “Good.” Saying which, he dropped his pants, and presented an extremely hard erection, which I promptly enveloped with my waiting mouth. Brad proceeded to pump like mad; no pretense at gentleness or affection. Then, just as abruptly, he withdrew, spun me around, pushed my head down, put some lube on his cock, then shoved it into my ass, all seemingly in a single motion. He then rammed as hard and rapidly as a piston, making me feel like a rag doll in the process. I felt extreme heat from the friction, but in no time he pulled out yet again, flipped me over, then grabbed my ankles and pushed my legs back so my feet almost touched my ears. He re-inserted his still hard cock, and fucked as hard and rapidly as before. I experienced a riot of sensations and emotions: used and degraded; aroused and horny; sore and sensitive; slutty and whorish. I had no idea what to make of it all. This went on for many minutes. The truck was moving with our rhythm, just as in the cliche. After what seemed hours, Brad actually increased the tempo of his thrusts, then shot a load of hot cum into my well-fucked ass. Once again, we lay there panting, trying to get our breath. It seemed hard to ...