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From: jordan@u36.com
Subject: {Jordan Shelbourne} No Names (MF) 
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This story is my take on that popular sub-genre of stories involving
two strangers who have spontaneous sex.

Repost requested by Bitbard for the definitive Celestial linked
list.  Like all my other stories (save one), this story is also
available on my erratic web site, http://www.u36.com/jordan.

Please don't archive the story without my permission; Deja News
and Eli already have permission. Comments and other communications
welcome at jordan@u36.com.

Jordan Shelbourne



NO NAMES


Copyright 1996 Jordan Shelbourne
August 1998 repost


"Do you want to fuck?" she repeated, enunciating clearly as though she
thought his drunkenness made him deaf. He looked at her carefully,
because he'd never had a stranger ask him that before, drunk or sober.

She had long straight blonde hair, slightly crossed blue eyes, a
white turtleneck stretched across large loose breasts, and short
sturdy legs beneath a black miniskirt. The angle of the light
showed him the fine hairs on her upper lip and the mole on her left
cheek. She looked nothing like the girl who had just dumped him,
and that was absolutely fine with him.

"Yes," he said. He had come into the pub with something to prove; had
approached a dozen women, none of them with brown curls and sapling
slim and supple. All had turned him down, and he had begun drinking.

"You men are such shits," she said to no one in particular.

"You want to fuck or not?" he asked her as he grabbed his coat.

She looked back across the pub at someone -- a couple sitting hip
to hip in a booth -- and then back at him. "Yes," she said, biting
her lower lip.

They left the smoky pub and walked across the damp spring ground to
the student residences. Minimal essential conversation:

"Where?" she asked.

"I have a single room," he told her. He'd bargained hard for that
room, because he had wanted a place for Julie and he to --

"Your place," she said.

"Birth control?" he asked. "I'll need to buy condoms." Julie had
been on the pill; no condoms in his single room. And he hadn't
thought of it before stumbling out to prove whatever it was he was
trying to prove.

She gave him a long look of appraisal. "You get points. Most men
don't even offer to buy them." She shrugged. "I carry condoms."

"Oh," he said. "My name is --"

"I don't care," she said.  He slowed down then and she stopped
and turned to him. "Look, if you don't tell me, you can't be lying,
okay? I don't want lying, I don't want bullshit. I heard enough
lies from *him.* And from *her.* You have a dick. I want it in
me. Okay?"

He nodded. After that, they didn't talk.

They laid their wet coats across the radiator in his dorm room,
carefully avoiding each other's touch. For a moment they stood
there looking at each other, not quite sure why they were together
at one in the morning. Then she bit her lip again and said, "So.
Let's fuck." Somehow she had already gotten the condom package into
her hand.

He reached forward to kiss her but she was already skinning up her
turtleneck, exposing her white belly and ribs and the snowy lace
expanse of brassiere. He helped her untangle her blouse from her
earrings (silver loops with little barrels on them). As he put
her earrings carefully on his dresser, she grabbed the crotch of
his trousers, searching for his fly. He was mostly hard. She
clutched at his cock through the fabric and grunted once softly.
He couldn't tell if it was in surprise or satisfaction.

He removed his trousers before he turned to face her again.

She snaked her hand into his undershorts -- he kicked his trousers
away -- and she began to stroke his cock. He took a moment to peel
off his flannel shirt and his tee-shirt (Julie had told him that
guys look ridiculous in shirt-tails and undershorts), then wrapped
his arms around her. He held her tight for a moment, feeling her
soft satin bra cups squashed against his chest, her belly against
his. He kissed her throat and shoulder and again her throat.

She turned her head so he couldn't kiss her mouth. "I don't want
that romance bullshit," she told him as she worked her hand eagerly
along the length of his cock. "I want to be fucked."

He reached up under her skirt and pulled down her pantyhose and
panties. She let go of him long enough to step out of them. Then
she knelt to pull off his undershorts. He guided her mouth to his
cockhead. She popped the head into her mouth, ran her tongue around
it and let it free again.  "That's not what I want," she told him
as she rolled the condom onto his stiff cock.

"I know," he said. "You want to be fucked."

He fumbled with her bra clasp and let her large warm breasts fall
free into his hands. He cupped and kissed her breasts, sucking on
each small soft pink nipple in turn. She made that soft grunt
again, and backed up to the bed, pulling him along. She fell onto
the bed with a thump and lay still: heavy breasts hanging to the
sides, shining damply from his kisses; black skirt bunched about
her waist; a dark arrowhead of pubic hair.

He kissed the humid undersides of her breasts, tasting her sweat
and feeling the indentations of the underwire bra. Her belly was
cool and damp, and she shivered as he licked her navel. As he
kissed the edge of her pubic hair, she laid her hands on his head
and pushed gently.

She smelled sweet and fresh and he opened his mouth to take in as
much of her as possible. She gasped as he teased her clitoris with
his tongue, tightening her fingers in his short hair.

He dropped to his knees and began to explore with his tongue. He
moved from her soft, delicate clitoris down the length of the thin
and folded lips. He had somehow expected coarse sturdy labia but
hers reminded him of petals. He cleaned her with long strokes of
his tongue.

He tentatively rested his tongue-tip at her entrance: not smooth,
but tight with a fleshy fringe. His nose was pressed against her
clitoris as he thrust his tongue into her, again and again. Then
he licked her clean again and suddenly, savagely, sucked her
clitoris. With another grunt and a high-pitched squeal, she clamped
her thighs around his head and thrust her hips up.

He flicked his tongue rapidly then released her clitoris. Her hips
slowly sank back down to the bed. As he slowly circled her clitoris
with the rough surface of his tongue, he slipped his index finger
into her. He was never prepared for the hot wet-velvet feeling;
it was always a joy and a surprise to him. She was very tight.

He fucked her with his finger as he kissed his way back up her
body. He could taste salt on her body. He pressed his thumb
against her clitoris and began to rub, gently.

Once they were face-to-face, he kissed her on the lips, sliding
her tongue into her half-open mouth. She slipped her tongue over
his. Her eyes clicked open, widened, and she pulled away. "You
bastard," she said throatily.

"Men are just shits anyway," he told her. "When I fuck, I like to
kiss."

"Then fuck me," she said. "That's what I'm here for."

"So you keep telling me." He didn't know if he said that or only
thought it as he moved himself into position. He had to free his
finger from its delicious prison and placed his cockhead at the
doorway. He held the base of the condom, and he reached down to
guide his cock in and he kissed her again. As he pushed, she thrust
her tongue into his mouth. Challenging him.

His cock slid in easily partway, then he withdrew and pushed again.
She made a mmmf sound and wrapped her arms around him, her lovely
breasts squashed against his chest. He savoured that: he'd never
before slept with a large-breasted woman. He slipped his arms
under her shoulders so his arms pressed against those breasts, and
he held her head in his hands, kissing her urgently as he thrust
with long slow strokes.

She broke free of his kisses to say, "Faster. Harder." He started
to fuck her the way she wanted, full-length strokes that mashed
his pubic bone against hers. She was so wet his cock met no
resistance; he might have been fucking steam. Her fingernails dug
into his back and she forced her hips up until every stroke was a
short rapid slam. Her eyes were wide open but saw nothing. Then
her entire body tensed: she mewed and sagged -- melted, really --
onto the bed. Without guidance, he stopped.

After a moment she said, "God. Oh God. I needed that." She looked
at him and said, "You haven't come yet."

He shook his head and began to move back and forth again. She
pulled away from him and his cock came out with a pop. "I'm way
too sensitive there," she said. "Just a second." She rolled over,
shoulders on the bed and her ass in the air. "Okay," she said.
"This works for me."

He licked her once more, eager to taste her again. This time he
flicked his tongue against her asshole. She shuddered.

He slid his cock in again. Rear-entry was his favourite position;
something about the way the parts fit together made it all feel
different. He never lasted long from behind.

His hips slapped against her ass as he fucked her. Every time he
pulled out, there was a delightful squeeze on his cock. She raised
her head and he could see those large breasts hanging there, wobbling
with every thrust. A stranger's breasts. She looked over her
shoulder at him and said, "You like this?"

He grunted and nodded. His cock was hard and long and in the
dimness he couldn't see her face, the length and blondness of her
hair, the largeness of her breasts: she might be slim, dark-haired,
small-breasted. She might be Julie. He thrust into her again and
again, mindlessly, angrily.

The pressure built within him as he imagined Julie impaled on him.
He distantly heard her moaning. He didn't know how long he went
on but eventually he felt the sweet ache of orgasm and he came into
her, slapping his hips against her ass for each spurt, once, twice,
holding himself there. She cried out.

"Oh Julie," he murmured softly.

And she rolled over and she wasn't Julie. He understood then that
they would all be Julie for him for a very long time, and none of
them would be Julie. Tears scalded his eyes.

"Oh my," she purred and she stretched and sat up. "I'm sorry I
was so bitchy. Thanks for helping me when I needed it."  She put
her arm around him and said, "My name is Abbey."

"I don't care," he said bitterly.


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