”But I am your Mysterite, Sharon. Don’t you recognise me?” he laughs, then thrusts rapidly and brutally into her.
”No … you’re … oh! … Oh! … OH! … AAaaAAAHH! …. NOT!”
The man stops his rapid fucking and starts a slow teasing motion. Then suddenly he slams hard into her, making a loud slapping sound as his groin collides with her buttocks. After repeating this three times he launches into the rapid thrusts starting into the whole cycle again. All the time he is holding Sharon down by the shoulders, bent forwards across the wooden rail of the balcony. Every movement drags her hypersensitive nipples back and forth across the rough surface.
Sharon is now rambling incoherently and her thoughts are worse. Why is she both enjoying and hating this so much? How can she face the true Mysterite? Could this be Mysterite? She is sure he’s not. And his style of lovemaking – this sweet torture – is nothing like her sensual Lover of the previous night. It occurs to her through the fog of emotions that she is allowing a complete stranger to use her. But how can she complain? In Slut School? Hardly!
Sharon now feels the man’s prick swelling to huge dimensions, or is it her vagina walls swelling and squeezing him? His breathing is heavy and laboured as he fights her swollen pussy to penetrate her fully in a final frenzied attack. At last he comes, spurting vigorously into her, again, again and her pussy convulses in its most intimate response as she realises the truth. “Yes you are my Mysterite!” It was just as Miss Dunbonking had said,
’Mysterite comes to you in many forms but you will always know him when he comes.’
Sharon collapses on the balcony. She is vaguely aware of being carried to her bed. When she comes round ….
Thu Jul 15 07:33:47 1999
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