A Flying Fuck - Cover

A Flying Fuck

by Mat Twassel

Copyright© 2021 by Mat Twassel

Flash Sex Story: Buddying photographer Paul wants to take some intimate photographs of his girlfriend Gemma and decides that on Sunday when the post office is closed the post office courtyard would provide the perfect location. What could go wrong? Illustrated.

Caution: This Flash Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   .

Right from the start, Gemma had her doubts, but her boyfriend Paul was so enthusiastic, and he was hard to resist when he got that way. “I know just where to do it, too,” Paul said. “The post office. That sort of courtyard with all the columns. It’ll be closed on Sunday so no one will be about. It’ll be perfect. And you can wear those red boots I got you for Valentine’s Day. They’ll be perfect.”

Gemma did like those red boots. “Is that the kicker?” she said, unable to keep from laughing.

Sunday was warm and sunny. “Perfect,” Paul said, beaming. “Didn’t I tell you?” And just as he’d promised, the post office courtyard was deserted. As planned, Gemma stripped down to her boots. Paul posed her against the granite wall. Against the marble columns. Standing. Sitting. Kneeling. “Perfect,” he said after each shot. “Pout for me, Gemma. Show me your discontent with civilization.” Gemma laughed. But then she pouted. “Perfect,” said Paul. “Perfect, perfect, perfect.” At last he was done.

“Fuck me now,” Gemma said.

Paul grinned. “That wouldn’t be professional,” he declared.

“Fuck me now. In my red boots. On the last days of civilization as we know it. Fuck me.”

Paul struggled out of his own boots. His pants and underpants and shirt. Two buttons popped and clattered and rolled. He paid no mind. His penis was fully erect, a lovely column of a cock. He stood behind her and lifted her as if she were weightless. Her red boots barely touched the marble floor. Then they didn’t. He lowered her just enough. His cock penetrated her cunt. She gasped at the pleasure of it. The pure perfection. A flying fuck!

They’d only been home a few minutes when Paul got an email from his grandmother with a picture attached.

Dear Paul

 
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