("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2011. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- My Brilliant Hitchhiker by Marc Proust (proust@scsn.net) *** Marc, a post graduate on the way to a meeting down state to an important meeting, stops to pick up a woman hitch hiking, only to discover that she's a natural submissive. Only things don't turn out as expected. (MF, mast, oral, anal, light dom) *** I decided to drive. It was only six hours away and I needed time to gather my thoughts together. My topic was "Lust and Poetry: Can Either Survive in the Post- Industrial World?" It was a new paper, and the bugs weren't fully worked out, but I was excited about the question and eager to give the paper. Prof. Tyson of Jacksonville University was a world-renown scholar on such matters, and our meeting the next day was a source of much anticipation on my part. I was nearly to Charleston when I saw her hitch-hiking. I was tired of thinking already, and figured a bit of female companionship would help pass the time. I had until 2:00 the next day, which was ample time to come to grips with post-industrial society, at least that part that had eluded me so far. "Gee, thanks. I thought I'd be there forever! How far are you going?" "Only to Jacksonville. Does that help?" Well, it turned out it helped a lot since she was also going to Jacksonville. She was about my age, perhaps a bit younger, no babe but very pretty in a lost, waifish sort of way. In spite of her slightly immature demeanor, however, it was clear from the start that she was no dummy. She wore a simple cotton top and I saw, before the dome light expired at the hands of its timer, that her breasts were not confined by a bra. I love that. It is so rare these days. Lust began to get the upper hand over poetry in my ruminations on the post-industrial world. "My name's Marc. What's yours?" "My friends call me Dandy." "Now there's a name you don't hear every day. While I am prepared to believe you are pretty dandy, I can't imagine that's why your parents gave their kid such a name." You can tell I'm no smooth talker. If fact, for some reason (and I'm not alone) I sound like a pedantic fool the minute I encounter a beautiful woman. I really thought I was getting better. "My middle name is D'Andrea and for as long as I can remember I've been called Dandy. I think my dad started it. My first name is Laura, which I don't much like, so I've kind of gotten used to being Dandy." I asked how she came to be hitchhiking and she proceeded to tell me a long story, most of which I have forgotten, involving a boy and a girl, another girl, and a banjo. I didn't believe a word of it, but it made me laugh, and we had sailed past Charleston when she said, by way of conclusion to her tale: "I guess I get into trouble, because when I like a guy I just want to do anything for him. They take advantage." Even I recognized that this was my cue. All thought of industry and poetry was gone; only lust remained. My cock began it's inevitable swell. The beginning is the most electric: slow jolts penetrate the testicles and tell the blood to quit what it's doing (what does it usually do?) and rush to the penis. I knew it sounded dumb, but the only thing I could think of to do was to ask: "Do you like me, Dandy?" "Yes." She said it submissively, and we were off to the races. Now, I had read about such women, but no one I had ever been involved with had been interested in such games. In fact, I have day-dreamed of dominating or being dominated, but never really thought seriously about either. In the next few seconds, however, I resolved to play my part as best I could. My post- industrial world had just expanded. "Dandy, touch your left breast with your right hand. It would make me happy." As I said this, we were gliding past Savannah. I love to drive at night. It is so lonely and quiet; cars shy away from the dark. Not only did Dandy follow my instruction, I noticed that she gently began to massage her left breast, and squirmed, if ever so slightly, on the seat of the car. My penis was swelling in earnest now, and I was really enjoying getting in touch with my dominant side. It is good for all of us, occasionally, to act like a macho asshole. "Excellent!" I said. "Now, Dandy, take your top off and show me your tits. It's dark, and no one outside the car can see. Feel your nipples; pinch them and pull them." Although it was dark, I could easily make out Dandy's profile as she shed her white cotton shirt, and began to touch herself. She started slowly, gently feeling her nipples, but it wasn't long before her intensity increased and the gentle touches gave way to slow, gripping gropes. She was breathing hard, too. As oncoming cars passed us by, their headlights allowed me to see how her nipples responded: they became enormously firm, proud and disproportionate to the size of her lovely, small breasts. Big nipples on small tits are nothing short of poetic: the promise of happiness, some philosopher said in another context. I reached over to feel them, to softly pull and pinch them myself, and elicited a groan from the beautiful lady as she let me take over. "God, you're a pretty slut," I said. I didn't usually talk this way to women, but now I HAD to. "Now, Dandy- slut, I want you to open my pants and pull out my dick. That's it. See how big it gets when it knows there's a slut around. Now, suck it, cunt!" She sucked it all right. She was a real artist: she knew exactly how to tease a man; she brought me to the edge several times before hauling me back again, panting from the sweet agony of unfulfilled sexual union. "Not bad." I tried to be nonchalant, but I could tell she knew I was impressed, very. "But you're not having any fun, are you slut? Listen, I want you to take your pants and panties off, and sit Indian-style on the seat." She did. I should not have been surprised, but I was. This was great! Then I said: "Now, while you suck me, you have to play with your cunt. That's right, stick your fingers in that wet pussy. Smear your cunt juice down your ass; rub it all over your pissy cunt. That's right, slut, I want you to get good and wet. Cunts are wet. Cunts are full of piss. Cunts get big, and puffy, and rose-like when you touch them. They get wet when you pee out of them. Your ass-hole gets wet when cuntish piss flows down your crack." I was damn near incoherent; that's how good she was. "Now, Dandy, I want you to suck me till I come. But, you have to come at the same time." We hurtled down the highway pell-mell while I kept up this constant chatter. Dandy was really getting into it; every time I mentioned her cunt, she groaned with my enormously expanded cock in her mouth. Her lips were silky on my penis, and she used her teeth in a way that, falling just short of pain, felt exquisitely real as they raked their way up my swollen shaft. Just when it was getting to be too much, she would stop and use her tongue to retrace the tracks of the teeth to soothe and cool, and every so often would turn her head from side to side as she emitted low, humming noises. Here was a woman to be celebrated! A woman who knew full well that not every male orgasm was the same; that those that are properly constructed in time will provide physical and emotional side-effects that are not only gratefully received, but long remembered. "Dandy, I'm close! You'd better be, too, you cunt!" I nearly screamed. By the looks of it, she was. As she sucked me to perfection, I could tell that she had two fingers up her pussy and was rubbing her clit furiously with the other. "Yes. Yes." I babbled on. " I'm going to come in your mouth! O Yes, you slut! Yes!" And it did occur to me, as it must to you, that while I was nominally in control, Dandy was calling all the shots. I was as helpless and pitiful as newborn baby, responding to each and every subtle manipulation of her great art and heart; yet she was supposedly submitting to me. I began pumping ropes of white semen down Dandy's throat, just as she let out a muffled holler and jammed her legs together over her hand. Perfection! I had slowed the car in anticipation and was very glad that it was so late at night; there were no other cars around and we floated on through Georgia with only a slight tremor and swerve. When I had settled down a bit, and regained my composure, I engaged her in conversation. She asked why I was going to Jacksonville, I told her about my paper and, to my utter delight, discovered that she had some interesting and original ideas on poetic lust in the post-industrial world. It never fails to impress me how total novices can sometimes cut through layers of academic fat and get to the heart of the matter. Yes, yes, it may have been a bit childish, her idea, but there was energy and originality there that had eluded my colleagues. I made a mental note to steal her idea for my talk the next day. We got to Jacksonville late, very late, and Dandy insisted that I stay with her, rather than the hotel room reserved for me by the university. Of course, I agreed, and called the hotel to let them know I would not be coming, and to ask them to please inform the Department, should they call, that I would be there for my seminar at 2:00 the next day. Her apartment was surprisingly elegant and cheery, and was located near the harbor in an exclusive part of town. Books lined the walls, providing a decor that made me feel right at home. We were both exhausted, and I fell asleep in seconds, hardly thinking of post- industrial literature or sex. The next morning I awoke feeling great, bursting with ideas and eager to give my talk. Dandy was in the shower, and as I waited for her I thought about what a fantastic time we had had the night before. Before long, my cock was hard again, and I gently played with it, stroking it softly, rubbing the tip, and running my fingers slowly over my balls. I was feeling downright languorous, sexy and romantic, not at all bossy like the night before. "Good morning, Marc. Your turn. What a day! I love it when it turns a bit cool like this." Dandy was looking lovely. As if by chance, her robe drifted open as she swept around to sit by me, and I stole a glimpse of her soft, small breasts, and her silky mound, sprinkled with its sparse thatch of down. There was indeed a cool breeze blowing through the window and it made her beautiful, too-large nipples stand stiff and puffy. "And what's this!?" She had turned back the covers, discovered my erect member, and was expressing mock shock. Though she made moves to touch it, and even bent over towards it so close that I could feel her hot breath on me as she stared in feigned surprise, no contact was made. She left me twitching as she stood up and embraced herself to secure the robe. "You are absolutely filthy, Marc. Now get in the shower and we will reevaluate the situation when you come back." She was right: I really was filthy and I made quick tracks to the bathroom for a pee and shower. It is not unusual that I wake with a hard-on but this morning was different and I waited longer than usual on the seat before enough flacidity had returned to enable me to pee properly. Minutes later, the heat of the shower put me in a state somewhere between extreme sensuality and overpowering ennui: liquid, languorous, languid, fecund, Rousseau, jungles, humid, post-industrial torpor, poetic licentiousness, lusty, busty. "On your knees you cur!! Get out of the fucking shower THIS MINUTE you dog!! How dare you keep me waiting!" I could have left. She wasn't at all big. A waif, just like I said before. But I didn't. My lecture wasn't for two hours, and the university wasn't far. Plus, was terribly curious how I would respond to being dominated. "Now come here, dog, and look at my cunt." As she commanded me, she let her own robe fall off, scooted her bottom to the edge of the bed, and opened her legs to show me her beautiful pussy. "Just look. Don't touch!" Now, I love vaginas. Whenever I see one, I am thunderstruck anew. Hers was delicate, like her frame, and the outer lips were small and rounded. While I did not mind looking, as my cock swelled again, making me look indeed like an obscene dog, it became harder and harder not to touch. Her cunt meanwhile was changing, ripening, glistening, opening, and beginning to emit that astonishing earthy aroma. As I looked, she closed her eyes. "Lick my asshole. Don't touch my cunt! You dogs are all alike. You like ass, don't you. Now lick!" I really don't know who was calling the shots, but I did lick it. She scootched her ass over the side of the bed a bit more, and I began to gently caress the little rosebud with my tongue. What could be lewder? This has always gotten me as hard as a skiff pole. My dick was twitching, and I felt like a dog. Dandy, was in heat and began to moan. The juice dripped from the cunt she refused to let me touch, and as it dripped it fell across her tight little anus and on to my tongue. I swallowed eagerly, a ran my tongue down her crack and to her back, to allow the temperature around her asshole to cool, so I could slowly approach it again. I teased her, but I did her bidding. She kept moving her bottom to try to make contact. Contact. "Stop!" She screamed it, but I could tell there was laughter behind the yelling and I could barely contain a bright smile of my own. Clearly, neither one of us was really cut out for this domination stuff. "Now stand back, doggie, and watch a minute. Look at me now." And as she said this, she peeled back the engorged lips of her cunt to reveal what to me is as breathtakingly gorgeous, in its own way, as Turner sunset. Fully visible were the gaping void of her tunnel, the excited convexity of her clit, and the tiny mini-slit-opening of her pee-hole, all glistening and fat and very nearly available. "Stop! Don't touch!" She said. "I mean it. Now look at this..." Picture this, reader. I was back on my haunches, dick swollen and pointing straight up, poised between the action of animal lust and the pure visual poetry of her shimmering, boiling cunt. We were suspended in time and I thought we might be there forever when it finally happened. As I stared at her, the little urinary hole above her tunnel began to change, acquire great definition, pucker, open, and start to burble a pale liquid that mingled imperceptibly with the viscous juice of her pussy. I had always wanted to see a woman pee, but now it was simply too much. Oh, way too much! It shattered my equilibrium, and put everything in motion at once. I sprang to my feet, shoved her ass back on the bed, and plunged my cock up her cunt. I vaguely remember her shouting something like "FUCK ME, you dog! FUCK ME NOW!! but that may have been my imagination. I was beyond words; there was only one thing to be done, and I was doing it: plunging, ramming, pistoning (synonyms, I need synonyms!) nearly clubbing her with my huge cock. I was only half-aware of the exquisite, immediate, soft, womanly resistance of her cunt as I split the walls on the first thrust. Mostly I just fucked her, and was completely oblivious to her desires. I really don't know if Dandy had an orgasm or not that morning, but I sure did. It didn't take long, either, and I felt like I was exploding as the white heat rose up from my depths and shot into her body. Judging by her laughter, I think Dandy got just about what she was looking for, too, and we lay there just holding each other for a long time, until I remembered why I was there. "My God! My lecture!" Time was short now, and we dressed quickly, got in the car and drove off to the university, where she let me out, said good-bye and wished me well. "I hope Dr. Tyson likes it", she said as she closed the car door. How sweet of her! I was really sorry to see the last of Dandy, but only ten minutes remained until I was due to speak and I was feeling bad that I had so far completely ignored my hosts. I soon found myself before the assembled group, but Dr. Tyson had not yet arrived. Dr. Gordon asked me to wait, as the eminent professor was expected any minute. Of course, I was happy to do so, and even appreciative of the extra minutes to think about Post-Industrial Lust and Poetry. All of a sudden, I froze. Into the room strode none other than Dandy! I thought: "What the Hell is SHE doing here?" But before I could even begin to think of something awkward and stupid to say, I heard Dr. Gordon intone: "Ah, Dr. Tyson, at last! Laura come sit here so we can begin." The End * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world contract HIV every year. You only have one body per lifetime, so take good care of it! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Kristen's collection - Directory 69