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Let me tell you a tale of the past. You may find it, if not thoroughly disgusting, even somewhat hot. Pammy was a loose woman, married to my future brother-in-law, Dave. I often felt that Pam was flirting with, or testing me. I couldn't help but notice a couple of times, due to her cunning, that she was wearing a pair of her tight hip hugger bell bottoms with a hole in the crotch, right at her vaginal opening between her thighs. I didn't respond to any of her lascivious ploys, not even knowing for sure at that time, if that's what they were, but they seemed to become more and more obvious, although I could see no reason why she would direct them at me, a guy her same age, just a twenty-one year old free bird at the time, who too often had his face in the wind, traveling. I've never seen myself as very handsome or desirable, even though many women have belied this notion.

While I was working repairing, remodeling and painting blocks of U of M student housing in Ann Arbor one week, she and Dave had a fight, and she ran off on him. I got a call from Dave in the early afternoon, asking me if I'd heard from Pam. I hadn't, and I told him so, as he proceeded to tell me what took place. Two hours later, I got a call from Pam. I asked her, "Where are you? Dave is worried sick about you." She told me she was on the outskirts of town. I asked her, "What town?" She told me Ann Arbor. What the Hell? She wanted to know how to find me, and I asked her where specifically she was. When she told me, I said for her to stay put, and I'd be there shortly.

I found her, and she followed me back to the house that Turkey and I were staying at with some of his brother Elmo's friends with his brother Elmo, a great chef by the way. Pammy started going into all her grievances with Dave, and I said, "Wait, wait, wait. Let me go wash all my brushes and rollers out and take a shower to get all the paint out of me. We'll go out and get a good meal at a nice restaurant, and you can tell me all about it. Are you hungry? Have you eaten at all, lately?" Of course she was. She was as skinny as a rail, and I could hear her belly rumbling. She told me she was hungry, so I cleaned everything and myself up, and an hour later we were eating Chinese.

Pam didn't really have any complaints not usually occurring in any relationship, but I lent her my ear, and occasionally my opinion, until she had blown off all her steam. I then asked her, "Okay, so why would you jump in your car and drive two and a half hours to tell me all this, when you could've far more easily just talked to your sister, Bobby at home?" To make a long story short, she had confidence in my down-to-earth approach and was curious about me. No, more than curious, she'd been fantasizing about me, and about what that big looking outline in my jeans would feel like, buried up inside of her, and she wanted me to fill her in, and let her experience all of the unknown details.

I said, "Look. You're my future Sister-in-Law. I've asked Deb to marry me. That'll make Dave my brother-in-law, and what you're asking wouldn't be very fair for him, or any of the rest of us. So now, do you think it's wise to become intimate with your Brother-in-Law to be? Don't you think you should just jump back into your car and go home?" She didn't care, no one needs to ever find out about it, and what Dave or anyone else didn't know wouldn't hurt them, she just couldn't stand to go another sleepless night, thinking about it, wanting and aching to know how it would feel, with a big empty space inside of her craving it, wondering and not knowing what fucking me was like. Baser instincts unwisely took over.

This sexy little seductress, had been flaunting and flashing her hot body at me for the better part of the summer, her eyes questioning and taunting with her freshly wetted lips smiling an invitation, and I wasn't immune to it, despite knowing it was against my, no our best interests. When she'd walk past me she'd always brush, or if she could do it unseen, rub her breasts or her crotch, or any part of her body, against me suggestively, while she'd seemingly steady herself, as she was always too high, by grabbing onto me and then teasingly run her fingers tantalizingly across whatever area of me she'd grabbed, usually near, and occasionally on, my cock or on my chest, releasing her hold as she moved away. There was no question now she'd always been perfectly aware of what she was doing all along. Pammy purposely had made a seriously conscious effort to bring my own curiosity and desire from mild simmering up to a roiling boil, and she'd succeeded easily.

She boldly and overtly wore no underwear, and enjoyed everyone noticing. She always wore the shortest of mini-skirts, so that you just knew that her bare ass and visibly glistening cunt were in direct contact with whatever she sat on, or she wore too tight, short, short cutoffs with a gusset so narrow that her pudgy cunt lips would be bulging on either side of it, almost popping out, while the ruddy areas toward the inner edges bordering her slit would just be visible, or she wore painted on, stretch, hip-hugger jeans, cut so low that it showed the top inches of her butt cleavage in back, and nearly showed the top of her vaginal cleavage in front, but always displayed a visually, very well defined, deep and plump looking camel toe, often with holes showing bald skin in that modest area and her rear cheeks.

She usually wore a nearly see-through halter top, tied in front between her proudly, forward thrust breasts, in a knot always looking as though it was about to come untied, and oftentimes did. Her tops did nothing to hide the fact that her big nipples were pierced with big rings and always rigidly swollen, and her nicely tanned, taut tummy showed all the right indents and invitingly opulent curves, and it alone was something to behold and could stir wanton fertility fantasies. She was a very sexually attractive, promiscuously promising and passionate looking woman, and she knew it, and her ego and libido certainly thrived on all of the self-stimulating attention her cock teasing tactics fostered. She and the guitar player fucking, as I finally found out, had been the problem with Dave's previous band, which Debbie and I had gone to see the night of my introduction to these people.

I had done no little amount of wondering and fantasizing myself as a result of her wiles. We didn't make love that night, we fucked. I pounded into her body brutally. There is no other way to put it. Me on top; her on top; up on our knees, doggie style. She was voracious, waking me up three more times after we'd gone to sleep, but she never sucked me. She spent the next three nights of a sleepless week there, leaving for home on Friday morning when I went to work, with a freshly fucked, sperm filled womb, and a cover story about visiting an aunt in Indiana she'd concocted. We fucked six more times after this first week before she turned her attentions to as yet unexplored new cocks.

  • 2 weeks later...

Kemander, , , I am new here and not too sure what is normal and acceptable; but here goes.  

To be completely honest, I didn't like your piece, as a story, but maybe it was cathartic for you as a confession.  However, I was hooked by your setting - University of Michigan.  I am a Michigan Alum and was wondering if you had painted over my signature in my old dorm room in 5416 Markley Hall.

Good luck with the writing.

WR Maxwell

Yes, I very likely did, although the majority of my efforts were spent on rooms, often in frat houses, that needed entire walls, windows, doors and / or door frames, repaired or completely replaced. It paid well and I enjoyed the opportunity to do restoration to some form of perfection. If you're a U of M Alum, then count me as a friend.
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