I withdrew, leaning up over her, taking my weight on my hands as I slid my cock into her damp, swollen pussy, making her hiss at the sudden invasion. I pumped a few times, but I wasn’t riding this hole, I was just lubricating my cock for what was coming next, Lori pushing back against me and murmuring discontentedly, also eager for the main event.
I slid out of her and rested the head of my cock against her slick anus, slowly jabbing to get it seated, Lori reached back and held me in position as I pushed forward, her sphincter resisting me at first, then slowly giving way as my bone-hard cock slid past her ring, which snapped tight around my shaft. Lori gave a low cry at that, but whether of pain or delight it was difficult to tell. I stopped pushing, waiting for her signal, and when she began pushing back against me I resumed pushing forward, slowly sliding my entire length into her glove-tight, sinewy arse.
“That’s it baby, oh God yes, fuck me, fuck my ass, oh Christ that feels good, yess, yes, harder, Davey, please…”she muttered as I began slowly pumping in and out of her, her arse resisting as I withdrew, the way back in always easier and somehow sexier. As I buggered my sister, the image once again flashed through my memory, that scene so long ago, of seeing Charlie, my step-father, doing this to my mother; Lori had said she’d seen it several times when my mother and her father had woken her up with their rutting, and she’d gone to their bedroom door to see the same thing, Charlie hammering his cock in and out of my mother’s anus. Now her son was doing it to Charlie’s daughter, her son was fucking her daughter in her tight anus for all he was worth.
“Top of the world, Ma!” I muttered as I rammed my cock into her tight, sinewy rectum.
I lowered myself down to my elbows so I could slide my hands under her ribcage to hold and squeeze her firm, protruding breasts, her nipples hard as bullets, and her firm, pneumatic buttocks bouncing and springing against my lower belly as I pounded against her. I could feel her rectum rippling and squeezing as she responded to the crude, primitive sex we were indulging in, her entire body trembling and quivering as we fucked.
The pressure on my cock was tremendous; all I wanted to do was explode inside her, fill her hot arse with my spunk, and then do it again. Lori was obviously feeling the same way; I could see her neck and shoulders flushing as her orgasm approached, the pleasure building for her in waves that rippled through her body and into mine, joined as we were.
When her orgasm finally crashed through her she screamed in release, shuddering as her anal ring clamped down on me, her uterus beating against my cock, separated as it was by only a thin membrane; every nuance of her orgasm, the fluttering of her cervix as it convulsed, the rippling, squeezing of her rectum, was transmitted to my embedded cock, and it was too much to bear. I felt my head swell up and wedge tightly inside her, even as her ring clamped down tight around me, and I came in a white fury of release so intense it drowned out and shut down all my other senses, blurring my vision and making my ears pop, while my body flooded hers with what felt like gallons of sperm, my spunk spraying out of me and into her, coating her bowels with my seed.
I slumped down against her, careful to take my weight on my elbows, and kissed her gently between her sleek shoulder-blades, waiting to get my breath back. My cock eventually softened and slid from her, leaving a trail of spunk out of her and down her thighs. Lori rolled over and looked at me, one eyebrow raised and her eyes dancing as she grinned.
“Now that, Doctor-man, is what I call a good ole-fashioned Iowa assfuck; you British shore know how to make a country-girl feel right at home!” she drawled, “My ass feels like someone done snuck up and hammered a big ole stump in there!”
I laughed out loud, her Rabelaisian, bawdy, vulgar and very funny sense of humour getting to me once again. We kissed and cuddled for a while, until Lori decided that she needed to take a shower. She grabbed hold of my cock, which looked like it needed a retread, and shook it threateningly
“And I mean a shower, alone, just me, so you stay put, or your ass is gonna feel like mine, got it, sweetie?”
I saw the glint in her eye, and to be honest, I was too fucked to misbehave anymore that evening; all I wanted was to sleep, so she could shower to her heart’s content; I was suddenly overwhelmingly in love with my bed, and nothing was going to part us, so I yawned, kissed her, and passed-out.
I awoke the following morning to the sight of Lori sitting at the window watching the red double-decker buses and black taxi’s hurtling around Marble Arch and jockeying like lunatics down Park Lane, a cup of coffee in her hand, and yes, once again she was naked except for my shirt.
“Good morning, husband!” she grinned, obviously catching the movement as I stirred out of the corner of her eye. She stood up and walked toward the bed, her unconscious strut in full evidence as she hip-swayed toward me.
“I think there’s someone famous staying here; there are TV vans and crowds of photographers outside. London is amazing, Davey, can we come here as often as possible? I think I could spend the rest of my life sightseeing and exploring here; no wonder Americans go into raptures about this place; look at it! And you have the sheer blase indifference to treat it as the place you work and nothing special! Life is too good for you; you should have been an earwig!”
I reached out and stroked her smooth flank, enjoying the warm silkiness of her skin, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh and feeling her life and vitality sparkle underneath.
“Oh no you don’t!” she laughed. “We’re going sightseeing and Jimmy’s due here on the dot of 9 o’clock, it 8 o’clock now, so get your ass out of there, Doctor Man, get in the shower, and get ready, you can have a coffee when you’re done, now move it, mister!”
I dragged myself of the bed, knowing she was right, tempted to throw a ‘domineering women/arse-scratching/farting’ comment in her direction, but I remembered what she’d done to me the last time I threw that one at her…
I decided to have a quick shower; I wanted to grab a breakfast in the restaurant before we went out for the day, so time was limited. Sure enough, 20 minutes later I was showered, shaved, powdered, pressed, lightly polished, and smelling like a manly man, according to the overpowering cologne I’d picked up at the airport. Lori was taking her time getting dressed, after having rushed me along, so I decided to duck down to the lobby and have a quick read of the paper while I waited for Jimmy. Telling Lori what I was doing, I jumped in the elevator down to the Ground floor.
The Reservations Desk had a stack of various newspapers, so I picked up one of the tabloids, planning on reading the sports pages, but the headlines screamed at me. 30 seconds later I was bursting into the room. Lori looked up in surprise, but something in my expression stopped her dead in her tracks.
“Davey… Davey, what’s wrong, honey?”
I held out the paper.
“Baby, your fame is spreading again…!”
There, on the front page of the tabloid was a picture of the so-called TV celebrity the previous night being head-butted by Jimmy, and an inset picture of Lori, looking extremely hot, I had to admit. The headlines screamed;
SEX-PEST GETS NOSE JOB!
Underneath, in smaller heading;
“TV SEX-PEST BEATEN BY HUSBAND AND BODYGUARD OF MYSTERY BEAUTY!”
Lori sat down heavily on the bed.
“Oh. My. God. Oh, Fuck Davey, no, no, no, no. Shit! What are we gonna do, Davey?”
I tried to lighten the mood.
“Well, at least we know who all those photographers and TV vans are for!”
Lori glared at me.
“This is not fucking funny, Laughing Boy! It’s not your face on the front page!”
I sat next to her and hugged her.
“But they got your best side, too…!” I murmured in her ear, making her grin.
Lori picked up the paper and read through the copy, smiling as she read to the end.
“Look, says here he was asked to desist, but tried to accost her several times, even after he was rebuffed by her and warned away by her husband. Apparently I’m an “unknown American beauty”, sounds about right to me, and I’m famous now, so don’t you forget it, Denham, you lowly nobody!”
I grinned at her.
“It’s a good thing they don’t know just what you were doing last night after all this kicked-off, then!”
She grinned back at me, blew me a kiss and turned to the next page. One of the paparazzi had managed to snap a full-length shot of the two of us, and there were the usual tabloid mini-headings asking who she was and why did she need a bodyguard, and one interesting snippet; apparently 12 other women had come forward with complaints about this bloke, and another piece editorialising about bodyguards, bemoaning their necessity these days, and ending by trumpeting that women had a right to protect themselves from unwanted attention, and that our chum had pretty much got what he deserved.