There comes a time when a typical girl want to be her lover’s sex slave. Usually for me it’s about the time I realized I want him inside me and I’m probably going to get my wish. It’s not so much his actual penetration as my acceptance of it’s delightful inevitability. And I guess any sort of penetration qualifies. Even giving him a blow job makes me his lover. Anal sex certainly does, though I can’t remember ever having anal sex with a man and not also sharing with him the pleasure of vaginal coupling as well, though not always first. The real master types sometimes like to “brand” a girl first. After a girl’s been “raped” in the ass, she really knows she’s been “mastered”. It’s actually quite exciting. Of course, I have to wimper and act reluctant and afterwards quite greatful to have been so honored. That part doesn’t require any acting. I love being conquered and made submissive, broken like a horse who afterward loves being ridden. And I certainly love having a man in my saddle! A year ago I met a man who probably understood all this better than I….

Max was attractive in a rugged kind of way. He was fifteen years older than me, and showing his age. But that didn’t make him less attractive. He wasn’t the kind of man who got tired, at least not yet. He had plenty of energy and testerone, and a domineering sort of maturity. I melted the first time I saw him. All I could imagine was his hands inside my bra. I tend to fantasize about men, but in different ways, all of which have only coincidental bearing on what may eventually happen. Most often I imagine the man’s erection deep in my pussy. For a change it’s sometimes in my heinie. Panting after men who didn’t know they had already had sex with me hadn’t gotten me very far lately and I was trying a fall back position, called petting. Petting could always lead to something better, but at the moment I’d even settle for a good firm fondling of my oversized breasts.

That’s the problem. I like to eat so every part of me is a bit oversized, not just my breasts. Even at twenty-eight I don’t get fucked all that much. I guess if I was slim I’d probably have more adventures for real. Mind you, I’m not unattractive. I have a pretty face and long silky auburn hair. One of the reasons I like older men is they often like me, or maybe just any young girl who’s somewhat attractive and more than willing. Older guys are into conquest. And I don’t mind in the least, their lack of commitment. I think I’m sort of a female Don Juan wannabe. I like getting fucked a lot. But if I get fucked twelve times, I guess I like it better when it’s by four different men than just twelve times by one man. Of course, if I please a guy, well … I do love getting fucked twelve times much better than three even when there’s only one guy available!

Max was a hiker. Everyone interesting I’m meeting lately, meaning male and momentarily unattached, is a hiker. I’m working at the snack bar on top of a mountain in western Massachusetts. The AT goes over the top of it, and so does a senic roadway. On top you get tourists and hikers. The male tourists are always with their families. The hikers are mostly male, single, and young. Men about my age and hardly interested in a chubby female who looks like she couldn’t hike a mile. Actually I hike down and up the mountain about every third day, which is more excersize than most people get. But I also eat a lot more than most people.

Max, like most of the thru hikers, wasn’t with a group. These people hike together when convienent, but most are doing it alone. It was late in the season and he was heading south. It’s called a flip. You start in Georgia, do half the trail to someplace in the middle, then fly up to Maine and hike south until you get back to where you left the trail. About a quarter of the successful thru hikers do it this way so that they finish off Maine, Mt. Katadin and New Hampshire in good weather. Max was trying to do it this way, but had missed eight weeks because of an injury and was now just trying to finish as much as possible before winter caught up with him. “Just” being well over a thousand miles already that year.

There was a problem with the grill. Not the grill itself, but the fact that we lost water. You couldn’t wash dishes. And this guy really wanted a hamburger. Typical hiker who’s been eating dehydrated pasta for a week. I felt sorry for him, while also lusting for his hands on my body. Anyway, I washed my hands using this alcohol disinfectant hikers carry, and cooked him his hamburger anyway. Just after I sat it in front of him my manager, who’s good looking but a total jerk, came in and told me to shut down until they got the pump working again. So I had nothing to do. I couldn’t even wash the dishes. Max didn’t seem to mind me sitting there with him while he ate.

It was early afternoon and hikers usually don’t spend the night unless they arrive later. Especially in the fall, the thru hikers are all trying to make distance with the short amount of daylight available. But a girl can always hope. I asked him if he intended to stay the night in the hiker’s room. Clearly he did not since he didn’t even know there was one. I think after a certain amount of time on the trail these guys don’t even mind sleeping every night in a tent, going into town mostly for supplies and a shower. But the dungeon offered neither. I could see my opportunity slipping away down the trail in spite of the fact that my nipples were in seventh heaven just imagining his lips sucking them.

“If you stay we can play 4-in-a-row. I’m not really very good at it, but I like loosing.”

“You do?”

“Well I like playing, win or loose. And sometimes we play it like strip poker. When a guy loses he has to kiss the girl. When she loses she has to take off some clothing. The guy gets to decide how many articles she’s allowed to have on when the playing starts. I once had a guy tell me I couldn’t start with anything on except high heels. Since I didn’t have any up here, he just took me to my room and fucked me the whole evening. I didn’t get to play 4-in-a-row at all. But his game was also a lot of fun!”

I’m not usually this forward about propositioning a guy, but the feeling in my nipples was going to my head. I vaguely realized that by going so fast I might be blowing it. I’m not really such a catch that all I have to say is I’m available and every guy says “yes”. Quite often they’ll say “no”. I’ve gotten so used to being rejected that I think I get some sort of melencoly pleasure out of it.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pressuring you. It’s just that I really would like to have some company this evening, if not also this night.” This late in the season the north bounders had all gone through, and hardly any serious hikers were still on the trail. And believe me, only a serious hiker would consider staying in the dungeon. My tiny room was a luxury by comparison. And I did have a large bed, much too large for just me alone.

“Well, I’m not making my goal anyhow. Not by eight hundred miles. Will the grill likely be running for supper?”

“I hope so. Right now I can’t even wash the dishes. In fact I have nothing to do at all. At least not work.”

“Well, suppose you show me around? The dungeon, the game room, and especially where you go when you’ve lost your last article of clothing and have to pay further penalities with favors.”

“You mean fucking. That would be my own room. Come right this way.”

As I said, the room was tiny and my queen bed took up slightly more than half the floor space. Max could see the possibilities immediately.

“I tend to do everything on top of the bed, get dressed, undressed, fuck, and sometimes even sleep.”

I was standing about four feet inside the room. Max came in far enough to close the door, so we were touching. I let myself lean back slightly into him, letting my heinie press gently against his crotch. His manhood was erect! I closed my eyes and sighed, not in the least trying to hide my knowledge. His arms reached around me and his hands cupped my mammaries. I love a man who has big hands. Big dicks are great also. But if I can only have one I prefer big hands! Big as they are, Max could engulf each of my breasts with one of his hands. There’s no bra that feels anything like as nice as a man’s hands. I could hardly wait for him to remove my things and touch me with his warm living flesh. Some men like to watch girls undress. But I feel better than I look. And besides, I’d just sort of wilted. Max could do anything he wanted to me, anything. But I wasn’t going to be much help for a few minutes. I sort of melt once I know for sure a man’s going to fuck me. After I recover, I am his, totally. If he wants to fuck my toes he can. If he wants me to fuck myself on his apparatus I’ll gladly play cowgirl. If he wants me to get a dildo and use it on myself, well, I am now his slave and his wish is my command, even when I’d rather his wish was using his own god given dildo on and in me.

Max knew exactly what was happening to me. In his years of experience he’d probably had other girls just like me. That’s part of my slave mentality. I love having an experienced master even if it means he’s had hundreds of girls before me and that I mean so little to him. During my meltdown Max unbuttoned my blouse and jeans and had me standing there naked in less time then I’d have thought possible. Of course, during meltdown I have a very poor sense of time. I didn’t even notice him removing my bra and panties. But in about one minute maybe I was bent over the side ot the bed, my ass held high in the air, supported by the two pillows he’d placed under my belly. He was definitely getting ready to impail me down there in one of my love holes.

Max felt inside me with his fingers, starting with two. One of my embarrassments is that my sex is proportioned to the rest of me. Some girls probably feel tight to just one finger, at least at first. Max soon had four of his rather large fingers inside me and was wiping my love juices all over my bottom, including inside my anus. Sometimes they use KY. But I was supplying plenty of natural female lubrication for his purpose. Even during meltdown when my mental processes are fuzzy, I could tell that I’d fallen into the delightful hands of a “branding” master. I was about to get branded inside my rectum and I knew that afterwards I’d really know that I was his property. As if I didn’t already!

Meltdown or not I was aware of and savored every mico second of my impailment. His fingers had been pushing my jucies inside my orifice, lubricating my opening, and not surprising considering how much I wanted this to happen, relaxing my sphincter. I knew he could feel me opening up for him, welcoming his incipent invasion. Now his fingers moved slightly to each side looking for friction, a grip with which to pull my cheeks apart. With both of us workiing toward this common goal, I felt my heinie open wide. Say “ah” for the man’s penis. Gladly! I felt the touch of his tip against my anal lips and died from pleasure. I deserve to go to hell because I love sex so much. But instead I’m in heaven feeling my buns part embarrassingly easily and his shaft slide up fully inside me. I supposed that with my heinie up in the air the way it was he actually slid “down” inside me. In either case, he immediately reached full penetration, his thick, long member almost filling my over large capacity. Whether there was any shit in there I neither knew nor cared. If a man gives me any warning I’ll gladly vacate myself first. But if he does a sudden “branding”, then it’s all his business. Why else is it described as fucking the shit out of the girl? Anyway, when my brain was working a little I remembered that I’d recently had a BM.

“I haven’t done that to a girl in a while. Years ago my wife let me do it, but she never liked it. Some girls love it and like you love the shock value of starting with full anal penetration. You know, if I ejaculate inside your heinie I own you completely until you have a BM?”

“I never heard that before. But in fact, you don’t have to ejaculate. You can save that if you want, or squirt me someplace delightfully disgusting, like my mouth or hair. But anyway, Max, you must know that the minute you touched me I became totally yours. I suppose there are things more intimate, disgusting, or intimadating than getting ass fucked. Perhaps bondage? It would scare me, but if you wanted you could pierce my nipples or belly button. I don’t think I’d want that done to me, but it doesn’t matter. I’m your slave and my joy is doing as you wish. The pleasure of obeying your wishes is far stronger than the pain of feeling a needle poked through my nipple. I imagine I’d even find the pain orgasmic under the circumsatanes.”

“Really?” he said, acting more delighted than surprised as he smiled.

That smile was a bit scary because I knew I’d meant what I’d said and would do anything he wanted, even risk death. I have this low self esteme. My life doesn’t mean much to me unless I can please men. I wish I was more attractive because then I could probably be more pleasing to more men. I’ve often thought about getting my nipples pierced and wearing pretty rings. But in my fantasy there is a man asking me to do it, who gives me the beautiful gold rings to wear to remember him by. Piercing is best done with a hollow needle and other proper equipment. Most tattoo shops are set up to do it. I could imagine lying there naked, a towel over my hips which has erotically slipped out of position, and this hunk of a man doing things to my nipples. Talk about being impailed! A needle through my nipple, a penis in my vagina, or my anus or my mouth. It’s the female thing! I love the idea.

“Well, at the moment I like what we’re doing right now. So relax and enjoy what’s happening. In a little while I’ll think of other things. Maybe not just regular sex. Have you ever had a man fish cherries out of your vagina with his tongue?”

I had not. But the idea itself was erotic. I thought about having Max’s tongue inside me and suddenly my pussy got big and soft and I felt myself gush out onto the topmost pillow. I suppose it was technically an orgasm, but it was more a delightful relaxation than an intense explosion. I have these quite easily when a man’s penis is holding open my heinie. I think it’s the mental pleasure of knowing I’m being used more than the physical pleasure of feeling his erection deep inside my rear end. I get more physical pleasure when a man is stroking me hard in the pussy.

Actually, while I suppose a man likes feeling himself stroke my shit hole, mostly I just love feeling him inside me back there. And for the longest time that’s all Max did, just stayed fully erect deep down inside my heinie. After a few minutes I relaxed so much I could almost not feel him inside me. It was like he was becoming part of my insides. Does your stomach feel the liver pressing against it? In a way this was delightful and strange. I was very much aware that he was inside me, but sort of intimidated because I couldn’t feel him exactly. I’ve been used by men and love being used by men. This felt like a way I’d never been used before. I knew a part of my part was to totally submit and neither say or do anything. I laid there face down on the matress, heinie up in the air, filled with a male erection, and felt myself slowly accepting it as if it were becoming a part of me! I wondered how this felt for Max. I always wonder what it feels like for the man, no matter what he’s doing to me. Actually, I think it was too relaxing for him. I felt him start to soften and tightened my sphincter a little. He seemed to like that.

“Nice. But now I think it’s time for other games.”

With that he pulled slowly out of me. He actually had to do it slowly, pushing in a little as well, because I’d sort of dried up and we were stuck together inside of me. Talk about intimacy! Max spit on his fingers and worked one of them down inside me next to his penis. Since it was still erect this opened me up an incredible amount. If it wasn’t all sex and pleasure I would have screamed out in pain! It’s funny because I know I was really in pain when he had both his penis and a finger inside me, yet it felt like orgasmic pleasure. In fact, I even had another of those low pressure gushers I seem to have instead of normal orgasms. With Max I expelled so much female lubricant it’s amazing I didn’t dehydrate. But then there’s a lot of me from which to supply love juice. Perhaps one advantages of being big is I can enjoy sex in a big way.

“That’s pretty amazing.” Max had known that the pain had made me orgasm. A few seconds later he had me on my back spread eagle on the bed and was playing around inside my cunt. They say a girl can accommodate men of vastly different sizes with equal pleasure. A big guy doesn’t stretch you out so much that you can’t enjoy a small penis an hour later. I’m not sure. For a while I thought what Max did next would permanently ruin me. Certainly if he fucked my cunt within the next hour I’d hardly be able to feel him inside me.

Max had decided that I loved sexual pain. And I guess he’s right. His four fingers inside me had felt hugh. They did this time too. But then he kept pushing, trying to get his knuckles and thumb in. I’d been fisted by a man once with a small hand. It was like Max’s four fingers. The pressure made tears come to my eyes. I meant to scream but all I did was moan and have another one of my delightful orgasms. This encouraged Max. It felt like something tore down there and I had another orgasm and now his hand inside me. I could see his wrist sticking out of my baby hole!

“I have big hands. I’ve never done this to a woman before!”

You could say that about the big hands. I could feel it inside me. More important, I could feel it going inside. Now that it was inside me it didn’t feel so bad. The man with the smaller hands had played around inside a bit then pulled out. Max was starting the same game. I could feel him rubbing my cervix opening with a finger tip. Then he started touching my walls pretty much everywhere, looking, I suppose, for my G spot. Believe me, everywhere he touched me was a G spot. Maybe just being so wide open I was unnaturally sensitive! I had several orgasms in a row, squirting his wrist with my squirter the way I’d normally squirt a man’s penis. It didn’t matter because it felt wonderful anyway. His wrist was bigger than any penis I’d ever had inside me and it felt wonderful too! I didn’t want him to ever pull out of me. Come to think of it, I hadn’t wanted the other man to stop either. But getting fisted is mostly a thing for the reciever. I don’t think the inside of a girl’s cunt gives a man’s hand much tactile pleasure. Mostly he just loves what he’s doing to her, which is driving her absolutely bonkers. It makes anal sex seem pretty tame.

I was holding his wrist the way I do my clit sometimes when I’m getting heinie fucked. Max could tell I didn’t want him to pull out and so I think he continued hand fucking me longer than he really wanted. And eventually he did pull out. Feeling his knuckles going out didn’t hurt nearly as much as they had going in. Which isn’t to say I didn’t still have another orgasm, about my eighth or so. I stop countining round three.

“Ok, now it’s your turn. Start easy and I’ll tell you when I want you to suck harder.”

I’m a specialist at fallacio. After the fisting I had forgotten where his erection had last been. Didn’t matter anyway because I was now his sex slave. Had it been shit covered I’d have still obeyed. As it was I couldn’t even detect a smell. But then I had it deep down in my throat before I even remembered. So by then it was washed clean. In spite of his size I was immediately deep throating his entire length. I’ve done it with even bigger ones. I am, after all, the queen of suckers.

There was a knocking on my door. My boss is a jerk, but he does respect my privacy.

“Heidi, the water’s back on.” was all he said before leaving. Max had not cume yet, not in my arse nor in my mouth. He didn’t seem to want to ejaculate, but loved feeling my efforts, feeling me suck and lick him.

“Max, I’d better go and wash the dishes. I won’t if you don’t want me to. Ask me to quit my job and I will and spend the rest of the evening with you. But we’ll lose the room, since it goes with the job. Anyway, in a couple of hours I’ll be done with dinner and we can play 4-in-a-row. And maybe even later, when I’ve recovered enough, my cunt will be worth fucking again? Hopefully you haven’t ruined me permanently. And of course, there’s still all those other activities you hinted at. You can have me all you want, anyway you want, for as long as you want.”

————————————————————————————

Actually, I did meet a very heavy woman in her late thirties working the snack bar on top of Mt. Greylock who had tried, unsuccessfully, to get an older male hiker in his late fifties to spend the night in the hiker’s room, offering to play “four across” with him that night. “Four across” is a sort of board game. I think he realized she was offering to play other things as well, but, as I said she was really heavy. I don’t think he was interested even if she was twenty years younger than him. I did spend the night and “Heidi” and I did play a few board games before I went to bed. It was obvious, however, that she would have rather spent the evening in bed with a man. I’m not totally opposed to girl-girl sex. But I also would have preferred an attractive male partner. And there had been plenty of georgeous guys out there. More guys than privacy, generally. And still more opportunities than I felt like dealing with. There had been a few nights in motels in trail towns. Anyway, I sort of liked her and imagined one of her fantasies coming true…