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Hedonist Ch. 02

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Chapter two.

Some history.

Despite the debauchery of last night, I was awake early, crackling with energy, as is normal for me after a good sex session. Far from being tired, I am energised by sex. I was at my desk early, only to find that I could not access the computer files for the project I had been working on. When I tried to find out why, I was told that my security clearance had been revoked, due to my resignation. I was handed what I consider to be clerical work, normally done by lower grade workers. I was insulted. I asked if I could leave now, rather than have to work out my notice. I was told no, but that I had seven days accrued leave due to me, I could shorten my notice by that amount if I wanted to. I decided that I could be as uncooperative as them, I would take time off to suit myself. I had some house-hunting to do in London, I would use my leave to do that.

I did try to concentrate on the work I had been given, but it was boring compared to what I was used to. I spent most of my time on the web, surfing for accommodation in London. I was glad when Friday came. Last day. Tomorrow I would go shopping in Manchester.

My mind rolled back to the years I had spent in Manchester at university. I owed a great deal to the town, my education, even my life…


My name is Clare. I an five foot six. Other dimensions are a bit misleading, suffice to say that I am slim, well proportioned but with ‘C’ cup breasts, which are pretty much self supporting, one boyfriend described them as ‘torpedo tits’. I have pale skin, some freckles and red hair, which includes my pubes. I keep that area well trimmed, but I would not shave it off, my ‘burning bush’ drives men wild. I was born in Edinburgh An only child to what you would call ‘elderly parents’. I had a happy, conventional childhood. My parents were quite well off, so I had a good education and easily won a place at the university of my choice, Manchester, reading economics and European languages.

I was an ugly child, right up to my late teens, so even when other girls my age were beginning to take an interest in boys, I was ignored by them. I am now considered to be something of a beauty, but was a virgin until I started at Manchester.

At first, sex seemed clumsy and messy. I suppose many females would agree. But I stuck at it and became competent. At least, my partners kept coming back for more. It was usually me who dumped them, about three months was enough to have me wanting a different cock. So many men, so little time! But one at a time, I was not a bed-hopper.

I soon developed a reputation for being a good cock-sucker and an even better wanker. I quite enjoyed my power over men, able to reduce them to pleading wimps with, quite literally, a flick of my wrist. The sight of spurting spunk fascinated me. Still does.

The death of my parents changed me. They were on holiday in Israel, ‘The Bible Lands’. Their car was targeted by an Israeli ground attack aircraft, as a training exercise, but the pilot accidentally released a live missile which vapourised their car. I had no remains to bury. I had no other relatives, apart from an uncle in Australia, my father’s older brother. He came to the memorial service, but scurried back to Oz as soon as he could. I was on my own.

I did not cry. I felt no anger or loss. I just felt numb. I started to drink too much and increasingly turned to casual sex, trying to fuck my grief away . At parties I would take on any man who wanted me, often in front of an audience, the more the merrier. Oddly, my studies did not suffer, I found it easy, but it was a senior lecturer who suggested that I take a year off, to ‘sort myself out’. She, (the lecturer was a she,) said that I would be welcomed back after a break, but that the college authorities were concerned about the effect I was having on my fellow students. She also told me that, behind my back, they called me ‘Spunk-bucket’.

So I took a year off. I could afford it. I had sold the family house, for an astronomical sum, and the Israeli authorities had paid me a significant sum as compensation. Compensation? Where can you buy new parents? The money was meaningless, but it did give me complete freedom do what I wanted.

I rented out the small flat that I had bought and turned up at Manchester airport with a small bag of belongings, my passport and enough plastic cards to access money as and when needed. The first flight available was to Malaga. So I took it. At the back of my mind was an idea that I would go to where my parents died. Malaga was closer than Manchester. It would do.

But then I started to have cold feet. ‘What was there to see in Israel? A crater?’ I took a room in a cheap Hotel. Give myself time to think. Stay off the booze though, that was not the answer. Not far away was a bar, frequented by holidaymakers of all nationalities. I took a job there, serving drinks to others. No alcohol for me, but there were plenty of men!

I had my pick, but was not all Kütahya Escort that choosy, quantity rather than quality.

After two weeks, I began to be bored. The crunch came one night after the bar had closed. I had allowed myself to be steered into the alley behind the bar, by a good looking, but very drunk Norwegian. I leaned back against an overflowing rubbish skip, removed my knickers and hoisted my skirt around my waist to allow access to the part that he was most interested in. I had to guide him in, but he was good and hard. He fucked me with long hard strokes. It felt good, but as usual, did not lead to the Earth moving for me. That would come later, courtesy of my own fingers.

We were not alone in the alley, opposite there was another couple, in a similar situation, her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, his bare arse pumping rhythmically. But as my fucker emptied his load into my accommodating cunt, the girl opposite threw her head forward and vomited over her lover’s shoulder, onto the already filthy road.

That was it. Time to move on. I thanked my Norwegian for his services, replaced my knickers and knocked on the back door of the bar. The owner was still there, cleaning up and re-stocking. He lived in the flat over the bar. I told him that I would not be coming back. I liked him. I probably would have fucked him were it not for his very jealous wife and business partner. He persuaded me to do “Just one more night.” I agreed and made my way to my lonely bed. I did not masturbate that night, my mind was filled with seeing that other girl puke up all the drinks she had had.

I slept late next morning, then went for a last look around Malaga. I ate a good lunch at one of the better hotels and went back to my room mid-afternoon. I intended to settle my bill, including tonight, and to leave as soon as I got up next day. I had no plans other than to leave. At the reception desk there seemed to be an argument going on. It turned out not to be an argument, just a guest trying to book a room. But he spoke no Spanish. I offered my help. In addition to my native English, (actually Scottish!) I speak French, German, Italian and Spanish. The guest was Italian. He wanted a room for one night only, but needed to pre-pay, as he would be leaving very early. It was soon settled. The guest thanked me and asked if he could buy my a drink, by way of a thank-you. He was quite a hunk, but I refused. I was working soon and determined to leave early myself. I paid my bill and went to my room, showered and put on the white, low cut, full skirted dress that was my ‘uniform’, then headed for my final evening’s work.

The bar was quiet, just a few early revellers taking advantage of the low-priced early drinks. After ten the price doubled. After about an hour, my hunky Italian walked in, recognised me immediately, and took up residence on a bar-stool close to my ‘station’. We talked off and on, when I was not serving drinks. It turned out to be a very quiet evening. Apparently, the girl I had seen puke, ended up in hospital having her stomach pumped. The police had called at the bar, word had got around and the punters were going elsewhere. My Italian, Gino, was a long distance truck driver. He had to collect his vehicle at six next morning and drive it to Naples. Suddenly, I had a plan.

“Can you take a passenger?” I asked.

He jumped at the offer. I was in no doubt about how I would pay my way, nor was he. The journey would take four days, he slept in the cab, was that okay?

I wanted him. My mind ran riot over the things we would do in that cab. I could feel myself juicing. I wanted him right now.

Miguel, the bar owner, read the situation perfectly. It was close to midnight anyway, but he leaned close and told me that I could go now if I wished. He also took advantage of our closeness to have a good feel of my arse. The first and only time he had touched me. I thanked him, said goodbye and under his wife’s withering gaze, gave him a kiss on the mouth.

Gino and I hurried back to our hotel. In his room, I seized the hem of my dress and pulled it over my head. I stood in pants and shoes only. As usual no bra. Gino let out a stream of Italian superlatives and tore off his shirt, buttons popping. His jeans followed, allowing his huge prick to bounce into view. My turn for superlatives. He was gorgeous. Dark skinned, built like an athlete, black hair over most of his body, like an Olympic gorilla. Best of all, waving at me was the biggest cock I had seen, complemented by a pair of balls that would not have disgraced a horse.

He pushed me down on the bed and showered me with kisses, all the time complimenting me on the perfection of whatever he was kissing. When he got to my panty-clad pubes, he bit the front of the skimpy garment and tore it off with his teeth. For too short a time, he licked my dripping twat, then moved over me, between my widespread and welcoming thighs and without needing to be guided in, drove his mighty Kütahya Escort Bayan cunt-stretcher into me. I yelled, he went to pull out again but I trapped him by wrapping my legs around him and urged him to continue.

It was a frantic coupling and one which in record time, gave me a rare orgasm without the need for fingers. He too, came almost immediately. With a great roar he released a torrent of Neapolitan cream into my clasping quim, driving deep into me with each subsequent spurt.

He rolled off, panting. We were soaked in sweat. I could feel his generous offering running out of me to soak into the sheet. He stretched out an arm, inviting me to nestle against him. I did so and reached for his now deflated, slippery snake, Very soon it was hard again. I moved down to take it into my mouth, but he stopped me, asking instead that I mount him. I did so with pleasure, this time I held his length and allowed it so slowly slide into me as I lowered myself onto it, savouring the thickness and length. He began fucking up into me, I held onto the bed-head for support as his thrusts threatened to throw me off. We soon reached a mutual rhythm as he shafted me with long violent strokes. Faster and faster, harder and harder. I released the headboard with my left hand, so that I could use it on my clit, wanting to come again, this time as his fountain erupted up me. And then the bed broke.

We were uncoupled by the violence of the breakage, but unhurt. Our second coming had been postponed by shoddy hotel furniture. We both went into fits of laughter.

“My room?” I suggested.

Both naked, we crossed the corridor to my room, where we resumed what had promised to be a memorable fuck. This time the encounter reached it’s natural conclusion, with another helping of cream being spewed into me. I did not come again that night, but Gino did. Twice more. Both into my cunt, I did not get to find out if his monster would fit in my mouth. At least, not until the next day.

We crept out of the hotel at about five-thirty next morning, found a taxi and made our way to the port. Gino’s lorry had been there being loaded overnight. I was not permitted to go into the port, I had to wait at the gate. It was raining, so the security men allowed me to shelter in their ‘rest room’. It took ages for Gino to complete all the paperwork. The guards took turns to see if I was alright, bringing me coffee, then biscuits, then a magazine, then to ask if I needed the bathroom. It was all an excuse to ogle my bra-less tits, displayed to advantage under a tight tee-shirt. I thought about the fine fucking I had had last night and hopefully, would have again soon. This made my nipples stick out, much to the delight of my two admirers.

At last Gino was back. His truck was enormous. A low-loader with a large, streamlined container strapped to it. I never did find out what the load was, Gino said that he had not been told, but to guard it with his life. I was, however, more interested in the loads that I hoped Gino was going to deliver to me. Frequently.

The journey was a delight. The high driving position allowed me to see far more of the countryside than is possible from a car and the cab was equipped with every conceivable comfort. We drove non-stop all morning, then pulled into a truck-stop for lunch. Nothing like the ‘greasy-spoon’ cafes that serve as truck stops in the UK. This one served food that would have done credit to a good restaurant. I allowed myself a couple of glasses of wine and was feeling horny by the time we got back to the truck. In the air-conditioned comfort of Gino’s cab, I expected, and wanted, another helping of his magnificent cock. But he refused.

“Rest now, fuck tonight.” He said.

I was disappointed, I had expected regular servicing, but he was in charge. For now at least. Another non-stop drive along mainly non-motorway roads followed, for some reason Gino avoided motorways unless forced onto them by ‘obligatory route’ signs. But it was on a main highway, at a well equipped service area, where we eventually stopped for the night.. After parting to shower in the rest rooms, we met up in the restaurant for a light meal. Then it was back to the truck, which Gino had converted to a sleeping area.

We stripped naked and started to kiss and caress. Whereas our first night had started with a frenzy and finished with gentle tenderness, this night was the opposite. Gino gently kissed his way down my willing body, paying special attention to my tits, until his mouth was on my cunt. He quickly brought me to a shuddering climax, then climbed over me and slid his torpedo into my wet slit. We fucked lovingly, Gino clearly wanted to make it last. When he tired of being on top, he rolled over, taking me with him, so that I could ride him. I could sense his crisis building. I moved my lips close to his ear and asked him not to come yet, but to let me suck him off.

Few men can resist such an offer. Gino rolled over to allow me access Escort Kütahya to his straining tool, now wet with my juices. I slowly slipped my lips over his bulging knob and sucked it gently. Gino bucked his arse of the couch, pushing more of his length into my mouth. I could not deep throat him, he was just too big, but I tried very hard, enjoying every second of it. He could not bear much of my skilful sucking, he warned my of his impending orgasm and seconds later it was gushing into my mouth and being gulped down my throat. I sucked and licked him clean, then slid up his body to kiss him. He turned his head away. Not until I had rinsed my mouth with water would he kiss me on the mouth, not wanting to taste his own spunk. How macho is that?

He needed time to recover and asked if I would mind watching some porn on his TV. Of course I did not mind, I enjoy good porn. I nestled under his arm, he covered us with a light blanket and ran the video. Italian porn is not much different to British porn. It usually ends the same way, with a showcase ejaculation by the hero or heroes, usually over the face of the leading lady. The second sequence soon went anal, the male ‘actors’ taking it in turn to sodomise a fragile looking blonde, then wanking themselves onto her buttocks. Gino turned to me and asked if I ‘did Greek’, a term which I was unfamiliar with, but could not mistake. I had tried it with vibrators, but had never had a real prick pushed up there. After some consideration, I replied that I had not, but was willing to try, if that was what he wanted.

Oh! He wanted it alright. I was nervous. Could his huge cock go into my tight virgin anus? It took several attempts and a great deal of lubrication for just the tip to gain entry, and I shrieked in pain when he at last popped in. He moved slowly, gaining depth with each stroke until, amazingly, his balls were against the top of my thighs. Only then did he began to ream my arsehole with fearsome power. It hurt like hell, but I was loving it. At last he came, with a great animal roar he spurted jet after jet of spunk up my clenching hole. He pulled out and slumped onto the bed beside me. In seconds he was snoring gently. Alone, I pushed a finger up my arse and felt his come inside me, then using the stuff as lubricant, I strummed my clit to a final orgasm before falling asleep myself.

We were on the road early next morning and the day followed the same pattern as the one before. In retrospect, it could not have been any other way, he had a job to do, I was a passenger and his plaything. Before falling asleep, he fucked me twice, once in the purpose-built place and then in the newly opened one. Then he was snoring. The idea of being a trucker’s whore had seemed glamourous, now it had become boring. By lunchtime on day three, we would be somewhere near Cannes. I decided to bail out there.

Again an early start. Driving mainly east, the sun was pouring through the windscreen, the air conditioning was struggling. I peeled off my T-shirt and enjoyed the feel of the sun on my bare tits. As we overtook and were overtaken, other drivers seemed to enjoy it as well. I began to feel horny again. I decided that I would leave Gino with memories that would stay with him always.

I struggled out of my jeans and pants, placed my feet on the dashboard, legs widespread, and began to masturbate. Anyone who looked into the cab could see my display. It was so dirty that I almost fainted when I came. Gino could not keep his eyes off me, we were in grave danger of going off the road at times, but it was very exciting. Little did he know that there was more to come. To be specific — him.

I sucked my juice off my fingers, then, still naked, knelt on the floor of the cab and unzipped Gino’s jeans. It was a struggle to free his big boner from his clothes, but I persevered and took his engorged tip into my mouth. I sucked him off as he drove and was rewarded by a massive flood of his come into my lusting mouth.

I left his limp cock hanging out of his flies and put my clothes back on. By the time we pulled off for lunch, I was decent. I told Gino that this was the end of the line for me, thanked him and jumped down while he was tucking his tool away. At the petrol pumps was a taxi, just finished fuelling. The driver agreed to take me to Cannes straight away. I could still taste Gino’s spunk on my back teeth.


I spent nine months travelling around mainland Europe, just being a tourist and having my little ‘adventures’ with anyone who took my fancy. None of my experiences are much worth writing about, but I was able to satisfy my need for regular fucking. I made two trips back ‘home’, that is, to Manchester, partly to check on my flat, which I had rented to students, but also to replenish supplies of contraceptive pills. It was a big and unpleasant surprise therefore, that I discovered that I was pregnant.

It was a strange pregnancy from the start. Not that I had any previous experience of pregnancy, but having missed a period, a pregnancy test showed negative. I tried twice more, with test kits from different manufacturers. Still negative. When I missed my next period, I decided that a visit to a doctor was required. I decided to head home again, this matter needed my native language.

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