A politically correct married guy encounters genuine slut trailer trash times three.
It was either the local caravan park or three weeks at my mother-in-law's. Some choices in life aren't options.
Fiona and I had just returned from working in Japan for two years. I had taught ESL and so had a Fee with a TESSOL Certificate. We were now waiting for the rental lease on our house to expire so we could be home. Fiona was happy to be back nursing but didn't appreciate the night shifts, while I had time on my hands as a teacher, arriving back a month before my leave without pay break expired.
At least the caravan park was quiet during the day for Fee to get some sleep. It was a picture-scenic location on a fry-pan point by the river, though neither of us appreciated it. The park was empty as the colder off-season had started. So, I was surprised to get up just after Fee had crawled into bed, dog tired for a heavy sleep, to see a battered old combi van with a canvas side annex two bays over from our hired caravan.
I thought dreadlocks, counter-culture, dole-bludging dudes and drugs before I checked myself to stay non-judgmental and politically correct. Oh, the world we live in, we all have to be: no offence given and too careful with language, so we don't call a pussy a pussy.
Well, a pussy is a pussy, on an attractive girl. The tall, stunning athletic lass with long, free-flowing brunette hair, who came through and opened up the canvas flap of the annex on the van's site, was camel toe perfection. Her knickers, if she wore any, would have to be prised from her gorgeous slit, so tightly fitting were her yellow shorts. She started doing some athletic stretches, and god was she toned—just a frickin sexy well, proportioned body. Political correctness was arrant nonsense with a boner-stirring creature so close and sexy. Hey, check yourself, I told myself, basic respect for the girl.
Well, my lucky morning got even better as the cutest, barely legal natural blonde I had seen in a long while came yawning out of the canvas gap. She had on a pink T-shirt and the filmiest excuse for short sleepwear I had ever seen, and then I realised it was her underwear. Still, it was her titty wobble and nipples jutting into her cotton top that had me, well, that and her wide-open mouth. Her mouth looked like it was searching for a cock or two for breakfast. Yeah, there were cockatoos in the caravan park. Steady yourself, mate, I told myself, don't turn the young woman into a fantasy slut.
The blonde, the brunette; I was enjoying my eyes, and my filthy mind was despite myself wandering over the pair. But it was the appearance of a redhead that made my cock go fully stiff. Well, she didn't leave much to the imagination. All I thought as I took in her body was thank you, god, for politically incorrect tarts. She was topless, and her perky tits were wasted untouched. Her mouth was a sassy hole designed to suck cock. Her black thong was well there, but I think the term teardrop is the correct phase; I mean fuck, it didn't cover anything except her slit and all it did was draw attention to her girly crack. There was disdain for political correctness. I could have called this young woman a slut, and she would have liked it.
Here I was, a married man, at seven-thirty a.m. in the morning, my wife just back from night shift, tucked into bed with a kiss and sleeping, perving lustfully on three gorgeous young women. Of course, I should have just gone for my intended jog, but my cock was urging me to step over into the girl's territory. Screw moral rectitude.
The brunette waved. I waved back. Yeah, I should have headed off in the other direction and jogged my sex drive out of me or saved it for Fee before she went to work tonight. But the blonde, the angelic-looking one, blew me a sweet, inviting kiss, and I was moving with the intent to their camping site. The sultry redhead didn't have to do anything, she was a cock magnet, and her body was enjoying the moment of being ravished by my greedy eyes.
I was corralled by girls in the best possible way and was led into their annex. Imagine a harem. A personal retinue of sluts. My basic white t-shirt, track pants and jocks were stripped off me. Hands were all over my body, driving my flesh insane with sexual need. The blonde's mouth was so sweet, yet her tongue work was so dirty in my mouth. The brunette had my cock in her hand. The trashy redhead was finger-rimming my arse, the savvy bitch.
They all seemed to know intuitively how to share a guy as if they were experienced in ganging up on a guy. They let the blonde have my cock first. Her cute butter wouldn't melt in her mouth or eyes, yet my cock felt like perfectly moulded flesh in her warm wet O-shaped gob. I was getting a head job from an angel. The brunette was tweaking my nipples at the same time—insane pleasure. At the same time, the redhead was sucking off my nuts in turn under the blonde.
God, they knew how to share, and I realised I would get the whole box of chocolates if I could control my wad. Still, hell, it was hard as the brunette sucked along my shaft like an act of oral intercourse defined her existence. The tempo, her pacing, her sucky pursed lips, her tongue somehow getting under my glans in her mouth for the most sensational of pleasures. The blonde was kissing my chest. So sensual. My body heightened to touch. The redhead was licking my arse crack, and I nearly lost my load with my pre-cum in the brunette's mouth.
The redhead felt my jerk and took control. She moved swiftly, gripped my throbbing cock along its base, and helped stay my untimely explosion. I got my second hard-on, as it were. Oh, the bitch was crafty — pure selfish need — I realised, as she gave me the deepest ever throat love my cock had the happy satisfaction to receive.
She was like one of those circus performers who swallowed a sword. God, my cock was encased entirely somewhere down her throat. Shameless, politically incorrect slut depth, and I loved it. And she did, too.
Did I deserve more? Well, no, not as a cheating bastard of a husband, but my cock was on autopilot and needed pussy; it had been teased too far. The brunette knew the blonde couldn't wait. Suddenly, I was eased back into one of those fold-out camping chairs. The blonde was facing away from me, but her spread-out fetching peachy ivory-skinned butt cheeks were angled to expose the cutest pair of girly fairy wing-shaped pinkish flaps I had ever seen.
Open, glossy wet, natural moisture glistening, poised over my cock knob, spread over my pecker head, and working fast up and down my shaft. My cock in the sweetest of tight slits. The joy was made more rewarding by her moans of pleasure.
She was a cock in pussy craving whorette. I don't know what that made the brunette who grabbed my head and twisted it slightly to the side so my tongue could lick out her lovely trimmed dark pubic love nest. My face was buried in her mound. My tongue was delving and licking everywhere. The redhead was sucking off her girlfriend's tits. I realised they were all trailer trash bi. But I was glad.
My cock was enjoying the tightest pussy of my life. The blonde angel was true pecker heaven. God, she knew how to work her body up off a cock, hold her poise with the tip of a cock in her and use her thighs, her arse and gravity to drop down the length of a male shaft with stunning wrapping girly flesh.
My tongue was tangled happily in the brunette's pussy. My cock was smeared with femjuices and smothered in slut lust. It couldn't get better, could it? Yet it did. The brunette moved her happy pussy from my face and whispered in the blonde's ear. The blonde was off my pecker. My cock was momentarily forlorn.
I didn't have time to realise what I was getting till my cock was rimming and guided with expert precision into the brunette's arse, like her friend, facing away from me. I was finding out fast about what these girls were up to and capable of. The redhead had to have fingered and gaped the brunette's arse while I was licking her pussy. Her arsehole was over cock ready.
My dick was just welcomed into her tight beautiful relaxed constriction like moving from one table to the next in speed dating. My cock had been transferred from the blonde's tight pussy into the brunette's stunning bum crack. The tall athlete knew how to work her butt furrow off a cock. I couldn't believe the traction and the movement she got. She was so strong in her thighs. She was a total anal sex delight. Cock bliss in a bumhole. If Fee had come through the tent flap, I wouldn't have stopped; this was the arse I was going to cream. I would have if the redhead hadn't urged her friend to share the dick inside her.
There was a moment of disappointment. I wanted the brunette's arse. However, the wranger was the dirtiest, skankiest, yet incredible female I had ever been with, and I had had my fair share before Fee. Her arse and pussy and my cock were a flexion of smutty mind-blowing pleasurable action in a stunning cavalcade of undreamt sexual misdeeds.
She gave me her arse facing me, our eyes locking, her butthole so clenching, my cock couldn't believe its luck, another fabulous arsehole. But she was a first-rate trollop, as she gave me her pussy too. Arse to pussy just like that. Her sweet wet coochie, so warm and clasping too. Holding cock as males dream a pussy will hold cock.
Then she gave me her butt back.
The dirty, dirty girl.
Pussy to arse, tightness to enveloping squeezing. Cock pleasure beyond expectation. My cock was enjoying her arse. Then my pecker got to ferret in her pussy. Then my rod was hammering her arse again. Then my cock was pummelling her sopping pussy. Finally, I creamed her arse in a blur of sexual delirium—a male volcanic release.
I was sweat-saturated. I didn't need a morning jog. Hell, my heart rate was up. The calories burned off. Well, for a while. They offered me coffee and invited me to share in their pancakes as they got them ready. The brunette, I learnt, was Erica, an athlete; no surprise there. The blonde was Beth, Bethany, a musician; she certainly knew how to work a male instrument. And the redhead was Chastity, thankfully fully misnamed; a languages lass, and she knew the lingo of harlotry.
They were days away from starting University life in different locations, but they intended to keep in touch and visit each other.
I should have done the right thing and returned to check on my sleeping Fee, but the three vixens invited me in after a languid breakfast into their van. I mean, I'd experienced damn near everything their three bodies had to offer in the annex, but cock wants it all, and they were offering it all.
The van space was cramped, but I was thinking of other tighter petite spaces, like the blonde's arse, hopefully, the lithe brunette's pussy and the redhead. Well, she was a mobile Kama Sutra.