Double-dipped public sex
Just how many fuck buddies should a young woman have?
As many as she needed, it seemed to Cassandra Hudson as she felt Sebastian's finger rim her arse under her cute red and white dress with a sexy black crisscross over her tanned back.
They were pressed in the crowd, watching the annual Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras Parade floats.
Sydney is a city to love, with its LGBTQ flavours.
It was mid-parade, about nine p.m., and it seemed the only thing that punched out the quality orgasms for Ms. Hudson was increasingly risqué activity.
And Sebastian Moore didn't care because he got to fuck her. He knew she didn't really care for him.
God, he had brought her flowers on their first date. Still, he had got to fuck her sweet tight coochie in a rowboat in the middle of the city's park lake. Then they had to run for it because the boat operator had called the police.
It wasn't that Cassie had planned to fuck openly at the Mardi Gras. The event was entertainment in itself.
Man-scaped hunky flesh in tight, very revealing pants. Yeah, they were gay; but hey, plenty were also bi when presented with pussy or girly arse.
Seb was perving on all the tits and obviously shaved fem-crotches sauntering past in simmering sexually explicit outrageous gear, flirtatious makeup and obvious phallic and vaginal-shaped floats.
There was hot, raunchy music, the heady denseness of drum rhythms, the heat of the city night, the press of crowds, close flesh in summery clothes, base humanity having fun and too much libido on display.
Well, a controlled display is acceptable, but what are the limits?
The rule is to keep the private bits packaged in public. No excessive covering is needed; nothing is left to the imagination, but it is covered. That oh-so-fine line between hidden and revealed was getting less and less each year.
It was hot lesbians dressed as nuns that probably tipped Cassie into unthinking primal sexual action.
When the cross is right over the mons pubis in pure fluoro white on tight shiny black leather, it gets a girl thinking; talk about an invitation to hit the slit.
Cassie hadn't had girl-on-girl time for a couple of weeks.
Ms Husdon fondled Seb's cock through his pants in the tightly packed sidewalk crowd.
He had his hand under her summer floral skirt, inside her knickers. His finger teased her perineum and arsehole while Cassie deliberately kept squeezing her legs together, putting delectable pressure on her fleshy lips, still cramped but now wet under her new black thong.
Then, a group of girls revelling in recent national legislation passing gay marriage were shimmering past them on a float in eye-catching, spectacularly bawdy wedding gowns.
Ms Hudson guessed how the designs held in their cleavage — tape and more tape. The side slits on the skimpy lacey white dresses drew the eye to their crotches and hints of their c-strings.
Ms. Cassandra Hudson had that moment of slut need, and there was nowhere to release it but in a crowd.
She turned her head, looking for a way out of the packed throng, maybe back to Seb's car in the parking complex, but that was streets away.
She saw the alley further down the road and grabbed her man-of-the-moment hand.
They pressed, moulded, and excused their way through the jam. Suddenly, they were alone, just metres from the parade and crowds, in a dimly lit, unattractive, graffiti-covered, higgledy-piggledy laneway with large company disposal bins.
Seb pressed Cassie up against the first bit of openly available brick wall. He didn't run his fingers through her newly styled, shorter blonde locks. One hand grabbed a handful of her peachy-arse cheeks, and the other groped inside her scanty knickers, where his fingers hit slick, silky slutty flesh.
They were tonguing each other deep. Their breathing escalated rapidly. Both their private zones were startled into blistering, searing action.
Cassie tugged cock fast. The cute foreplay had been on the street.
Alleyways invite raunchy, lewd, explosive sex.
There was only penetration left to fulfil the act…. if anyone was watching.
Neither Sebastian nor Cassie was thinking of their rapid fucking. With one of Cassie's legs held up by Seb, they were going for it, fully engaged in the embracing, intoxicating carnality of their screwing.
He kept a tad in reserve, hoping for an invitation to her date locker.
Man-oh-man, he had enjoyed slipping his tongue into her sweet mussy arse on the rowboat.
Ms Hudson moaned because she was addicted to open-space sex acts.
"Oooh fuck! Yeah, ooh! Oohh fuck, fuck! Ooh fuck!" escaped her O-shaped gob.
The two Mardi Gras crowd patrol police officers passing the lane heard the lasses' forceful, unrestrained and natural oohs of unbridled delight and looked up the alleyway.
It was clear what was going on.
Explicit copulation: obscene, vulgar coupling in a public place, but they watched for more than a good minute and exchanged words before entering the laneway.
"Hot trollop," said one officer, feeling his crotch.
He was privy to Cassie's soused shaved pussy being banged piston fast.
"Wet sopping pussy," said the second, licking his lips.
He heard her squeals of delight mixed with the squelchy, pappy, pulpy — puck, suck, puck chunter of pussy jus spreading and glistening over dainty girly meat curtains.
Both officers smirked because the pair they watched fitted a description of a couple who had had it off in a rowboat in the middle of City Park Lake recently. Leaving as evidence a lovely pair of size eight black lacey panties.
Yep, no doubt about it, this young woman was size eight.
"Step away from the female and step away from the wall," said Officer Jones.
Which processed in Seb's mind as; Shit, we have been caught? I'll lose my job! What will my mother think?
And he withdrew his cock, erect and promptly spurted his gravy load on the concrete lane.
It processed through Cassandra's mind as, Geez, I was about to have an astonishing climax; what a waste of spunk and what now?
"Under Civic Indecency laws, you are both charged with exposing private bodily parts in public and engaging in lewd coital conduct. Identification from both of you. Now," said Officer Smith.
Seb was trying to pack away a still erect cock and ferret out his wallet and driver's licence simultaneously. He twitched — a nervous mess.
Cassie eyed off the two police officers; something was not quite right here.
She didn't have a shoulder or handbag with her.
"No ID," she flirted.
Officer Jones leered at her while Officer Smith gathered Seb's details.
He took Sebastian down the lane towards the street, saying: "As a first-time penalty, you're looking at court; a several hundred dollar fine and a good behaviour bond for six months sunshine — and hours and hours of community service. And what will your mummy think, you dirty boy? Anyway, let's get your details in the light."
Officer Jones asked Cassie to step over towards him; he was shadowed from the street.
"I think you can ID yourself very easily for me; your knickers, please," he said straight-faced.
And Cassie realised her description had been circulated by the police following the lake fuck. She had left her panties behind in the rush to escape the scene.
She lifted her short floral dress, and Jones took in tight, sheer, stunning size eight black knickers. This pair looked even better than those left in the dinghy because a young woman's body shaped them, the knotty bulge of her prominent labia and a moisture patch from her seeping already lubricated slit.
Cassie wriggled off her thong as Jones released his pecker into the darkness.
Ms. Hudson was impressed; he was a big boy, and she was kneeling and jamming it right into the back of her mouth. She was working the shaft and ball bag very happily.
Jones' knew what he wanted.
And got her up off her knees, spun her around and bent her over with the instruction: "Touch your toes, baby."
Cassie spread her lithe body and easily bent over and grabbed her ankles—supple youth and tight coochie from behind are irresistible.
Officer Jones enjoyed Mardi Gras for the first time in years. Her slit was thoroughly moist, cock shaped and sensually warm. He pumped the willing bitch as she moaned and moaned.
"Ooh yes, ooh yes, oh fuck me! Yes, yes, fuckin yes!"
He knew her desires. He knew her needs. He had the time and the nerve to fill them.
He gave her the whole jizz wad deep in her saturated, shaved, girly crevice as he massaged her clit to bring her off at the same time.
Cassie was luxuriating in his superior fat-cocked performance. She was adding uniforms to her public sex cravings list.
His cock was out, and she was about to get up.
But there was a hand on the small of her back and a firm: "Don't move slitch;" from Officer Jones.
Cassie was momentarily arse propped out in an alleyway, coochie dripping and orgasm subsiding.
Still, her mind was quickly occupied as a finger entered her arsehole.
She half turned to see Officer Smith; this was building into a memorable Mardi Gras.
"The lad's gone; nearly shat himself. I warned him off; he'll never do public sex again. But this bitch. No stopping her," and Smith removed his finger and eased his prick around her back door and slightly into her pucker slot.
He knew how to build the sweet sphincter sensation.
"Mmm, yes, ooh, yes, I like that! More please! Ooh yes, ooh yes!"
Cassie was fully re-aroused, her body taking cock again greedily, and her excitement cascaded through her because Officer Jones watched her get cock in her arsehole.
He enjoyed the show.
Smith was an arsehole connoisseur.
He liked his whores tight in the rear passage.
But it's not always as tautly enveloping as a guy with a butt fixation desires.
This lass had the crack of a guy's dreams; she was sensationally tight. His pecker jammed in her heinie like a credit card wedged in an ATM.
He was in her arse, searching for her bottomless point, and she relished the exploration. Really enjoying her arse getting a treat, and Smith was treating it as a girl's ring slot deserves to be treated; filled deep; pucker pulled; gouged wide; and rimmed sensually; the amalgamation of true lewd pleasure.
Expressed as, "Ugh, that is bloody good! Ugh, yeah! Ugh! Ugh!"
Ms Hudson was fingering her swollen clit; it was engorged but rekindled with a fresh pulsating desire, and she moaned loudly as she climaxed again in the laneway, understanding the true meaning of the full force of the law.
"Oh, fuck me, I'm cumming! Oooh, yes, cumming! Oohh, oohh, OOHH!"
Smith, at his ribald leisure, creamed the minx fully in her lovable arse hole.
A crack this tight and classy deserved gold standard treatment.
God, Cassie could barely stand or walk straight; between her legs was sodden.
Both holes spermed, and her body was abuzz with the joy of being Cassie Hudson.
She bent gingerly to pick up her panties.
"Ah…Ah…No… No," said Jones.
Cassandra just smiled.
She planted a kiss on Smith's cheek and then one on Officer Jones' jaw and made her way with moisture dribbling around her twin openings and down her inner thighs back to the Mardi Gras action.
No, Seb, as she craned her head up and down the crowded sidewalk.
But the truth was the parade commenced to blur.
Two unknown guys pressed into her in a crowd sway.
Cassie pushed her hips into manscaped hunks, left and right.
Her memory would process the alleyway cops later.
In the immediate instance, her hands were massaging a new pair of groins.