Trailer Trash Ch 01 1

I'd always been attracted to hands. Big, muscular hands, pulsing veins and red scars as proof that he was a hard worker before he went to work hard on me. When I saw him in the class I was taking, as I watched him tapping his hands on the desk beside me, I knew he would be the one. In addition to his big, used hands, he was tall, athletic, moderately good looking, shaved head, and totally not my type. Plus he was easily fifteen years younger than me. Perfect.

I am married. Married for thirteen years. Happily. But I wanted to fuck another guy. Bad. I didn't consider it to be an act of unfaithfulness. I wasn't looking for love, I just wanted a good hard pounding from a dick attached to a guy I didn't know. What can I say...it isn't my fault women don't reach their prime until they are in their thirties. I wanted to capitalize on it.

As the class wound down and we were dismissed for the last time, I stopped him in the parking lot, made a little small talk, stalling as the cars vacated the lot. I finally got up the nerve and asked if he was interested in a no-strings-attached fuck. The look of shock on his face was immediately replaced by one of sheer joy and anticipation.

"Yes." I saw movement in the crotch of his pants.

"Do you have somewhere we can go?"

He thought for a moment and said, "Follow me."

I got into my car and drove behind him for forty-five minutes, ending up in the parking lot of an auto body shop. I parked beside him, opened my door and he took my hand, leading me to the corner of the property. There, in the grass and hidden among some trees, stood an RV. He took keys from his pocket and with shaky hands, unlocked the door.

"After you."

I stepped into the tiny house on wheels, the stale, humid air surrounding me, stealing my breath. Beads of sweat instantly formed on my neck. I turned to leave, but came face to face with him, his stubbly head, his timid smile, his ever hardening dick and I walked into the trailer. I wouldn't grow a conscience now.

He hurried about the cramped space, opening windows, turning on the generator and then the air conditioning. He switched on some music, bluesy music, and poured himself a whiskey, which he drank in one gulp.

"Want one?" He offered.

I waved it off. His version of foreplay, I assumed.

I sat on a bench on one side of the Formica table, he sat on the other. Having some forethought, hoping he'd say yes, I'd worn my tight, low-waisted jeans, which I believed showed off my best traits---flat stomach, long legs and wide hips. The shirt I'd chosen was tight as well, offering a peek of my belly button. I slipped off my flip flops and put my feet up on the table. He nervously took my feet in his hands and massaged them, pulling on my toes, cracking them. Goosebumps traveled from my feet all the way up my arms. I lifted my foot and placed my big toe in his warm mouth and he began to suck long and steady. The front of my jeans soaked through.

He was twenty-two. I was fifteen years old when he was born. I thought this would be a turn off for him, but it had the opposite effect. "I thought you were in your twenties. You have three kids? You're fucking amazing." And the wetness spread.

I slid up onto the table, sitting on it, inches from his face. I was sure he could smell the sex bleeding through my jeans. I placed my hands on his rough, stubbly head, closed my eyes, then leaned forward and licked his bristly pate.

"Your shaved head turns me on."

He moaned as I stroked from his forehead to as far back as my tongue could stretch in long, deliberate licks.

I sucked on my index finger then ran it across his lips. He shifted on the seat. I guided his face toward my cunt, and taking the hint, he put his mouth on the front of my jeans. I moaned and leaned my head back. He bit at me, then slid his hands under my shirt, playing with my breasts which were swollen with anticipation.

He stood and lifted me off the table, carrying me three steps to the bed at the rear of the RV. He laid me on the stark white sheets, unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off. He ran his hands along the length of my legs and across my tight stomach, sending shivers up my spine. He undid my bra and rubbed my breasts lightly, pinched and pulled my nipples. His mouth and hands went to my pussy, first on top of my silk panties and then exploring underneath. He stopped abruptly.

"You don't shave?"

I shook my head and bit my lip. He looked surprised. The teenage girls he had fucked previously must have all shaved their little pink, inexperienced pussies. This was not going to stop us.

Brazenly, I said, "I guess you'll have to shave it for me." Even I wasn't sure I meant this.

He shook his head.

"I want you to eat me. To do that, you want me to be shaved. Since I'm going to be tied up, I won't be able to do it myself. Therefore, you'll shave for me." I smiled, and like a Pavlovian dog, the wetness between my legs spilled onto his white sheets at the thought of being tied up.

"Tied up?" His face went bright red but the bulge in his pants grew huge. "I, I don't know..."

I pointed to his head. "You obviously have practice. You must be good at it. I trust you." I stretched my hands above my head, my long, lean body on full display. I knew I was irresistible and he'd do whatever I asked. Just needed a little coaxing. I held my wrists there for him to bind. "Find something for my wrists," I instructed.

He walked away and I heard rustling noises in the front of the trailer. He came back with two neckties. "OK?"

I nodded and whimpered. He knelt on the bed, hovering over my body, securing me to the bedposts. I dug my heels into the bed. The thought of being helpless while his hands wielded a steel blade on my tender, pink flesh drove me insane. "Oh, god."

He tugged at his work and, satisfied that I couldn't free myself, he ran his tongue from my neck to my clit, then stuck his hand in the front of his pants to adjust his rock hard dick. He poured water from a gallon jug on the kitchen table into a small cup and rummaged around in the bathroom for a disposable razor. "I don't have any shaving cream. Are you sure?"

"No."

"Too bad," he said.

He was learning.

He placed his wet, thick tongue on my throbbing pussy and I grabbed fistfuls of sheets. "For lubrication," he said.

He took the razor to me gingerly, biting his lip and squinting in concentration with each precise stroke, his hand quivering. He started on one side and drew the cold metal up toward my belly in one jagged pull. It hurt like hell, burning like a million little bee stings. He rinsed the razor in the cup of water and started on the other side. The cold water made the blade feel like a singular attack on my pussy. With each stroke, his confidence grew and he moved more swiftly, seeming to enjoy his work. I watched helplessly as the coarse, curly hairs were methodically removed from my body by his increasingly capable hands. The whole ordeal lasted twenty minutes, twenty excrutiatingly wonderful minutes, interrupted only by kisses to my lips, both the ones on my face and the ones he was shaving. I resisted the urge to free my wrists from their bondage. Still, through the pain, the wet spot on his sheets around my sex grew larger and larger.

When he was mercifully through, he stood and admired his work. "Perfect," he said, and he slapped it with an open palm, a tiny pink imprint left in its wake. I winced. I was able to lift my head off the sheets just enough to admire his handiwork. He had left a thin strip in front, in the shape of a "V," but otherwise I was clean and smooth. Small beads of blood formed in the most tender places. Tears welled in my eyes.

"Does it hurt?"

I nodded. "Pleasure and pain."

He moved slowly toward me, his tongue dancing as he lapped at the blood on my newly shaved pussy. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

He sucked on me, licking my clit in slow, glorious strokes, finger fucking me with first one finger, then two, then three. I wriggled on the bed, lifting my hips, begging him to use his mouth. He placed his hot tongue on my clit and moved it in a circular motion, then exhaled hot air into my open, waiting cunt. He thrust his tongue in and out of my dripping pussy. When I came, I came hard and fast, my legs shaking uncontrollably, my feet stretched and pushing against the bed, my wrists still painfully secured above my head. He licked and lapped at my cum until I lay flat on the bed, gasping for breath.

He moved toward my face, stopping to lick my belly, to kiss my neck, his hands all over me. "You have an amazing body," he said as he rubbed his rough head over my taut stomach. He hovered over my face forever, looking at me. Finally he stuck his tongue in my mouth, probing and sucking. He reached up and released my wrists. My hands went to his head immediately, feeling his clean, shaved surface, running over it gratefully. I moved my hands from his head to my cunt, feeling my own clean, shaved surface, running over it gratefully.

"You like?" He asked.

I purred.

I placed my hand on the front of his jeans, bulging with his erect cock. I unbuttoned his pants and slid them off, letting them drop onto the floor. I knelt before him on the carpet and guided him to stand in front of me.

He stood before me still in his boxers, which were tented by his hard dick. I tugged at them until they fell around his ankles and his penis wagged in my face. I took it into my warm soft mouth and slid the shaft in agonizingly slowly until it hit the back of my throat and I gagged. He moaned low and deep and grabbed a handful of my hair. I slid it out, smoothly in one long pull. He closed his eyes, grabbed onto the dresser, leaned back and swore. "Mother fucker."

"Indeed."

I grabbed his hot, full balls in my hand and caressed them, slid his cock back into my throat, and squeezed his ball sac---hard. He squealed. In and out, in and out, squeeze and release, squeeze and release, until he grabbed my hair and pulled me back until only the tip of his penis remained in my willing mouth.

In a barely audible whisper he begged, "I can't hold it."

I slammed my face down on his cock in that instant and he came so hard that it hit the back of my throat like a bullet, hot and bitter. I was forced back, my knees burning against the carpet. I struggled not to swallow the mouthful he offered---I had other plans. I gently released his dick from my mouth and he groaned and tipped backward.

I stood before him and put my mouth on his, pressing my naked body against him. I kissed him hard with my full mouth closed, and then tried to push my tongue through his clamped lips. His face froze. His whole body froze. I realized immediately that he'd never tasted his own milky hot cum. That wouldn't do. I fought against him as he resisted my lips, my probing tongue. I grabbed his balls again and he clenched. I increased my pressure until the pain was too great and he gave in, his eyes closed while he stood on tip toes. He accepted my tongue and I stroked his neck like a dog until he swallowed, then he moved his tongue into my mouth for more. We shared the juices of his manhood, slurping and sucking until I felt his cock grow hard against my thigh again.

"Now what?" He whispered.

I shrugged.

"I want to fuck you so bad it hurts."

Saying nothing, I bent over the tiny Formica table in the kitchen. My impossibly long legs were stretched and toned as I stood on the balls of my feet, inviting him into my hole. My small breasts were aroused and shown in the moonlight like two perfect peaks. I turned my freshly shaved pussy in his direction so that he could once again admire his work, the smell of sex filling the tiny trailer, my hair pulled back from my face. I pinched each of my nipples until they were firm and pink, and beckoned him with my index finger.

He stood behind me, his dick rubbing against my tight asshole, his fingers exploring both of my holes. I knew he wasn't ready for any ass action, but I would be satisfied with his hard cock filling my pussy. We could do more next time.

He slipped three fingers from one hand into my pussy while the other hand worked my clit in tight, hard circles. He pressed hard and pushed over and over as I threw my head back and cried out, my hair spilling across my shoulders. The wet dripped from me and he leaned down more than once to lick it from my thighs. When I was about to cum, when I stood on tiptoes and moaned, he pumped me full of his long, erect cock, slamming my legs into the Formica table, bruising them. Over and over he pushed his dick farther and farther into me, lifting me off the floor, until we both came, our bodies trembling in unison.

He pulled himself out of me and I sat before him on the shaggy red carpet to clean the cum from his dick with my mouth. In return, he ate me one last time, kneeling before me as I had knelt before him, my swollen pussy pulsing and begging. He slapped my clit, licked my shaved pussy and finger fucked me. Unbelievably, I came one last time.

"Are you sure you're somebody's mother?" He asked as he lay back on the bed, his beautiful abs glistening in sweat.

I looked for my underwear, but couldn't find it. I didn't fucking care. I nodded. I paused as I pulled my jeans up over my brand new pussy to admire it. How was I going to explain that to my husband?

"I am. I am three somebody's mother."

"You're the best fuck I ever had."

I slipped my shirt over my head and held my bra in my hand, turning the door knob to leave.

"Wait." He called.

I stopped.

"If you give me a few minutes, I think I can go again."