Message-ID: <14481eli$9808181755@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: jordan@u36.com Subject: {Jordan Shelbourne} No Names (MF) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <903230364.AA5701636@u36.com> 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. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----