Beef

by

Caution: This Erotic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Heterosexual, Fiction, .

Desc: Erotic Sex Story: Lin likes her meat and she likes it lean and raw. So when she meets some prime beef in the gym, she wants and she wants it now. And nothing will get in the way of that, once she sets her mind to it.

Lin was proud of her pussy. And well she should be. It was a minge in a million. The outer lips unfolded below her crotch and the inner lips further still. And the clit was thick and firm. It had to be after all the attention it had enjoyed. Once a dick passed through the portal and was gripped between the moist and dripping walls of her cunt, her clit shared all the pleasure of the hard thrusts against her cervix.

And not just dick, of course. Lin was never so lame as to confine her diet to only sausage. Anything the right shape was welcome: not only fists, either male or female, but also dildos, zucchini, tongues, toes and truncheons. And in case these weren't enough stimulation for her flaps, Lin had rings pierced through her inner vulva from which she could dangle weights for that extra special buzz when the need arose. She had sex any which way: long-nailed fingers squeezed inside her muff or a prick up her arse. And, of course, the nether orifice could tell another story altogether and a good one at that, but Lin was an old-fashioned girl in some ways and she preferred her sex in the front passage where her clit could join in the fun. Men, however ... That was another story. They always appreciated special attention at the rear entrance however much they might initially protest.

Lin made a point of displaying her quim to its best advantage. She shaved it in the shower every day, together with the stubble on her armpits and along her long slim legs. The smoothness was set off by an all-over golden tan: natural in the summer, sun-bed in the winter. Never spray-on. Lin was a girl who appreciated nature best in its pure raw sweaty glory; even if she enhanced her natural assets with a few discrete piercings and some unflashy but expensive tattoos. No ink around her muff: neither on the gash nor the flaps. Not a trace below the navel and, God forbid, nothing so vulgar as a tattoo near or around her tits. They were already just as perfect as her pussy and exactly as round and firm as the cheeks of her arse.

In case nature's bounty wasn't already enough, Lin was never so complacent as to allow her natural advantages to succumb to nature's ravages. When she wasn't working out in either her own bedroom or that of her lovers, fuck-buddies, girlfriends and the occasional one-night stand, she exercised in the gym. And this was most often the big, brash, noisy and brightly-lit one just over the road and down an alley from the office where she was employed as a Sales & Marketing Exec. And by fuck she needed the escape. There was only so much yelling at juniors, barking down the phone to reps and rattling off e-mails that a girl could take. There had to be some kind of a retreat for a high-powered girl in a high-powered job in an open-plan office that was normally silent only when the last Armani or MaxMara suit had quit the building and it became the preserve of the cleaning staff. Not that Toucan's was a gym where Lin could rest her tonsils if she wanted to be heard. Due to the constant Heavy Rock and EDM soundtrack in even the changing room, she'd have to yell as much in the gym as she'd already been doing all day in the office.

And then she could occupy herself on the running machines, the weights and the exercise bikes: her muscles aching from the strain of exercise and her eyes on the other men and women around her who were also working out.

Camel toes were so naff. Only women with absolutely no taste or style would allow the pinch of latex to reveal the contours of their beef curtains. Lin was careful with her choice of sportswear to ensure that her vulva wouldn't peek out or her bosom slip to one side. It wasn't always easy to get it right, especially when you'd been running on the treadmill, jerking the weights or pushing on the pedals: hair tied back in an unfashionable pony-tail; sweat coursing down the cheeks and into the eyes; muscles tensing and aching; and a bottle of Evian close at hand. However, even though Lin would never let her private parts be anything other than private in a public space (there was always a chance that an intern or junior might admire not her muscular prowess but a glimpse of contoured clit), she was a voyeur for the indiscretions of others. Naff or not, Lin relished the unintended latex bulge of a fanny's contours, a firm nipple or, best of all, a man's packet.

But it wasn't what was between the thighs that first drew Lin's eyes to Col. It was the abs that did it. Col was well and truly ripped: a bona fide beefcake. He had the kind of body with which nature could never have blessed him without a tad of help: not only as the result of good strenuous exercise and a rigorous routine but supplemented by plenty of protein, a course of steroids and absolutely no carbs. Lin liked her men to have biceps that gleamed when oiled, could lift a man up high on the bar and, naturally, came with the stamina to show a girl a good time for as long a time as she was in the mood. And Col was clearly not a chav who'd just come off the building site or the type who paraded his privates at a hen party. He had expensively cut hair—possibly Toni & Guy—and just the right length of Advertising Exec stubble on his chiselled chin.

In short, Col was prime beef and Lin wanted her slice.

Of course, Lin didn't know that the hunk of sculptured muscle pumping iron opposite her was called Col, any more than Col knew the name of the lithe, red-lipped, blonde-haired woman who introduced herself before he'd had the opportunity to exchange weights for the running machine. He was clearly startled to be waylaid in this way, but flattered to be able to advise her on his choice of bottled water and the name of the shop where he'd bought his Giuseppe Zanotti trainers. And when Lin proffered her hand with a simple "Lin", he responded with the equally monosyllabic "Col".

"Col, eh?" said Lin, relishing the sound in her mouth just as she imagined she'd soon relish the taste of his cock down her throat. "There's an All Bar One just opposite. Fancy a drink after?"

"A drink? I dunno..."

"Just the one. Doesn't have to be something that'd bloat you. Me: I go for a Vodka & Lime. Nothing fancy."

"Well..."

"I'll meet you outside then. Fifteen minutes?"

"Yeah. I guess..."

"Fine," said Lin with a private smile. She strode off to the changing room with a nonchalant wiggle of her hips to clinch the date.

Lin was a good timekeeper, so she deliberately added an extra ten minutes until she ventured out the changing room. She had a long leisurely shower during which she soaped and shampooed off every last fragrance of perspiration and gave her twat a quick little frig to get her into the mood and to ready it for eventual action. Whereas in the gym Lin was careful to hide her assets, she was totally shameless in the changing room. She was hasty to tug off her shorts, trainers and top and tardy to pull on her evening outfit of J Brand jeans, Carvela Kurt Geiger heels and a Givenchy sweatshirt. In the meantime and totally in the nude, she luxuriated in the shower, blow-dried her hair, painted her nails, plied on the rouge and lipstick, and eyed up the female talent as much and as surreptitiously as they did her. Although Lin considered herself to be straight—she was definitely no bull-dyke lesbo—she enjoyed making love with women and there were several who caught her eye while they also towelled themselves down or plucked out loose hairs from between their inner and outer labia. In particular, she took a fancy to a brown-skinned woman of indeterminate ethnicity who had a gorgeous pair of buttocks and a pussy to die for.

Maybe another day. But today she was otherwise engaged.

"Sorry to be late," Lin lied when she emerged from the changing room to see a nervous-looking Col waiting beside the energy drink vending machine.

Neither she nor Col exchanged many words as they strode out of the gym: he with his bag slung over his shoulder and she with hers strapped to her back. All that was necessary were a few grunted questions and equally terse replies.

"Where'd you work?"

"PWC. And you?"

"Andersons. Live nearby?"

"Edgware."

"Fucking feel for you," Lin commiserated as she calculated the time of the last tube up to North London. "It's not cheap anywhere these days, is it?"

"You're telling me."

To be honest, Lin barely cared what Col said. Fuck it! When was the last time she cared for what a man had to say. It was always the same shit anyway. Money. Cars. Football. As long as it was none of that whiney 'My girlfriend doesn't understand me' shit that usually predicated a limp dick and a fucking waste of time. What Lin wanted was those abs wrapped around her, that designer stubble brushing her shaven twat and a good long bedspring-breaking fuck. But formalities had to be observed.

"Single Vodka & Lime for me. No ice and no fucking umbrella," Lin commanded as she pressed her bum onto one of the last few remaining stools in a bar jam-packed with expensive suits, even more pricey designer jeans and the aroma of celebrity-endorsed perfume. She could see from the crush at the counter that it would be some time till Col returned with her drink and whatever piss-tasting beer he'd choose for himself. Enough time for Lin to check Facebook, Twitter and her e-mail. And important time it was too. With Col living beyond the bounds of civilisation at the extreme end of the Northern Line, Lin needed to find somewhere nearby to stay the night. And she wasn't going to let Col into her Docklands apartment until she was confident that he was more than a one-time fuck. Christ! For all she knew he might keep his shoes on and leave footprints all over her recently laid wood floor.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Heterosexual / Fiction /