The Executioner

by realoldbill

Copyright© 2014 by realoldbill

Sex Story: While waiting to do his job, an executioner enjoys a lovely young woman

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/ft   Consensual   Heterosexual   Historical   Size   .

The noisy thunder storm brought me what I wanted, the reluctant girl. She came hurriedly into my room as the lightening flashed again and jumped into my bed and beneath my raised quilt before the thunder crashed. She huddled against me, hands over her ears, and I held her gently, enjoying the feel of her ripe body.

She was a glorious blonde, the kind of young woman that could not pass men without garnering leering looks, the kind that made men whimper at night and brought young members up to flaring attention with barely a thought.

"Now don' get any ideas," she whispered, wriggling to get free of my hands. "I'm jus' a'frighted." We were alone in her house, and we both knew it. I had been flirting with her all day completely without success, sniffing around her like a dog in heat.

"You can stay just as long as you like," I assured her as my right hand found her left breast and cupped its firm fullness. She pushed my hand away and sank with her back to me as lightening flashed again. I rolled over and got my knees under hers. Her firm rump felt good on my belly as we cuddled spoon fashion. My prong trembled and begin to fill.

"Keep your hands to yourself," she said as my prod rose between her long legs, and I pawed her stomach, fingers reaching into her curls.

"Yes'm," I said, trying not to laugh. I brushed her fine hair aside, breathed on the back of her neck and kissed the ridge of her ear.

"None a'that," she sighed with a laugh in her voice. "Stop it now." My questing fingers had found her nether lips.

The head of my rising prong touched her thigh as my hands attempted to gather up her long night dress.

"What's that?" she asked quickly, aware that it was neither of my hands since one was on her raised hip and the other was in her grip.

"What?" I asked innocently, pushing my hips forward so my overheated ram rose toward her groin, its head eagerly probing and pushing her gown higher as it did, poking out between her thighs.

She reached down between her own legs, thus spreading her thighs for me, and her hand found the fat head of my rigid bone. "Oh," she said.

"Um," I said, my spear butting into her palm. She yanked down her nightgown and closed her legs tightly.

With a fierce crash, lightening hit something nearby so the noise came right with the flash. She jumped and squealed, and came meekly into my arms, still with her back to me. I pulled her nightdress up to her hips, and then I pushed the head of my rigid member just between her trembling entry lips. I was at the pearly gates, and they had just parted. I folded her within my arms protectively, feeling her heels moving against my shins.

"Oh," she said with a sniff, her quivering lips damp and trembling as my prong traveled up and down her slit, lying in the wiggling length of her crease, seeking a point of entry. "Well, if you don't go any farther."

I held her hip with my left hand and slid my right down her belly to her hairy mound. "Whatever you say," I told her. "The storm will pass."

Another boom shook the cottage, and I arched and popped it in and got an inch or two deep, waggling my hips right and left. I smiled in the dark.

She sucked in her breath and made a noise in her throat. My fingers explored her curly muff, and her hands clawed at the quilts.

"You're going to do it, aren't you?" she asked as my probing fingers found her tiny nub and my other hand closed on her luscious breast, its nipple hardening quickly. She took a deep breath. I teased her tiny prick from its covering and pushed my ram up and inward.

"Not if you don't want to," I assured her, now perhaps three inches in and beginning to feel her tight quim suck me deeper. Her pulse had quickened and her belly quivered.

"You know I don't, sir. I'm bespoken. I'll marry next month. Oh, please; it's too big. Please don' do it."

I was at least halfway into her now, spreading her open as I went, filling her completely. There was no turning back. I flexed it and she moaned. Her flesh parted. The head's hard ridge had her.

"Only my lover has ever, ever, oh, oh, oh my god, my god, my god." She mewled and shook as my prong kept swelling and growing within her, seeking friction and depth, vibrating with thudding pulses, sliding back and forth very gently, drawing her soft flesh with it, tearing and plundering.

"He's never even, oh, oh, please, please," she shook and arched in my grip, sobbing "harder, harder, shove it in, all the way in."

"Are you sure?" I asked as the thunder rumbled in the distance. "I think the storm has passed on."

"Ah, ah, ah," she gasped as I pushed my hips forward and she rammed hers back. I edged beneath her, grasping her body and rolling her atop me, nearly fully impaled, her legs limp beside mine, head back on my chest.

I held her luscious breast with my left hand, squeezing out her nipple, and her right hand and mine joined to feel my shaft side in and out of her slick lips. Her belly trembled and her breath came in gasps. I was probably six inches deep but bent severely.

"Please, please," she moaned. "We must stop."

I stopped, holding my spear fully extended, but in the position we were in, it was hardly as far as it might have been. We both we shaking with, there are no other words, primal lust. I was tempted to push her upright and really spear her.

"Thank you, oh, yes, please, thank you," she sighed. "It feels so good." I now had both hands on her young breasts, teasing out her pointed nipples, aching to suck them. My cock leapt and shuddered, bent into its slick prison, wanting more. Her hands were in her groin, finger tips just touching my thick rod.

Her breathing slowed and I heard her swallow and then she suddenly spasmed as an orgasm swept through her. I slid my hands all the way down her body to her thighs and then back up to her belly as she gasped out her success.

"That's not so bad, is it?" I asked, refilling my hands with her breasts, lifting and stroking them.

"It isn't right," she said, wiggling. "Please let me go."

"Just a bit more," I begged, rolling over and turning her face down on the bed. She was soon up on her knees and elbows, rump high, and I slowly pushed my rigid prong all the way into her, holding her hips as I did so. She squealed, but I was in to the hairy hilt and ready to get down to some serious swiving, up on my knees and preparing to enjoy her.

I ignored her protests and began doing her in sets of ten; ten fast, ten very slow, ten twisting, ten lifting, ten just inward, ten slowly out until only the head of my tool was still in her and then thrusting all the way home, bashing my swollen stones into her flesh, crying out with pleasure as I did. On and on I went until she climaxed again before me, her face down in the quilts, grunting with release.

I slowed, well into the second hundred and wanting to extend my rogering, holding myself in hard discipline and letting my ram do what it wished within her sopping cunny, my finger pressed hard under my cock and against the thick vein pulsing there.

She was spent, weeping and sniveling, her back shaking. I pulled it out and let her fall, still eager for more of her tight quim but willing to be patient. I flopped beside her on my back, my blood-hot root stretching out above my stomach. She rolled over and cuddled next to me. Her knee found the hard knot that was my turgid ballocks.

"I've never," she began, "that was; you've ruined me, ruined me."

"I need your help," I said quietly, caressing her smooth back.

"Um," she said, her face on my hairy chest as my fingers stroked the crack of her buttocks.

"Your intended's father," I said as calmly as I could, "I want to kill him, make it look like an accident."

She stiffened.

"Why, why?" she demanded, her knee still bumping my swollen sac, trembling belly pressed against my blood- hot rod. "Can't we do it again? Please, please, once more." She gently petted my swollen prick.

I pushed her flat, rolled between her legs, spread and lifted her knees and crawled forward until the rubid head disappeared into her followed by many pressing inches of thick shaft. Then I let go of her legs and thrust it in to the very hilt, one vicious ram into the entrance of her womb. She gasped and shivered.

I held it there, fully extended and battering at the base of her cunt. She shook her head from side to side, flailing me with her hair her mouth agape with desire, eyes closed.

"He is a foul turncoat who has betrayed dozens of good men," I told her, lifting her hips and starting all over with long, slow thrusts and even slower withdrawals, rubbing hard against her nubbin, sawing steadily.

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