Harry’s Girl


Harry says I’m the best fuck he’s ever had, which always makes me laugh because I just do what comes naturally. He also says it’s a good job he loves me else he’d have thrown me out years ago. Not that I’d go of course, because Harry looks after me just fine. He’s bought us a nice little house; he makes sure we never go hungry; he’s always buying me pretty clothes to wear and, most importantly, he’s the only man I’ve met who can satisfy me.

It’s not just that he’s got a big dick — which he has — but it’s also what he does with it. And with his hands. And with his tongue. Even if I’m mad at him, once he scoops me into his arms and starts running his hands over me, I just melt, stop fighting and let him do what he wants. My mother once told me that I’d get myself in big trouble for not saying no, but I tried it once and never slept a wink that night. And felt grumpy all the next day.

Not that Harry would ever take no for an answer anyway. When he wants it, he takes it — which is fine by me because I always want it too, although I get annoyed sometimes if I’m in the middle of cooking him a meal, or relaxing in the bath. By the time Harry’s finished with me though, I feel too good to be mad at him.

I wish he didn’t have to work away from home so much though. He’s fun to have around and I feel safe with him. Once when he came to pick me up from the bar where I work and he found me outside, jammed in a doorway, with two drunken customers pawing at me, he just pulled them off me by their collars, banged their heads together and let them drop. At the end of the block I looked back. They were just starting to get to their feet and I bet they had no idea what had happened to them.

All the way home, he kept asking me what I’d done to get them so fired up. I told him I hadn’t done anything but, in the end, he made me admit I’d flashed my titties at them for fifty bucks. When he got me home he put me over his knee and paddled my ass. I told him I was sorry but he was so mad he refused to fuck me. All he’d let me do was suck him off. He made me wait until next morning — by which time I was hornier than a full grown reindeer. But I could tell he’d forgiven me because he agreed to do it our special way.

That’s when he fucks my ass. I adore doing it that way and, although he won’t admit it, secretly I think Harry loves it that way too. If he doesn’t, he’s the only man I know who doesn’t — and I’ve known plenty.

Harry muscled his way into my life when I was eighteen. He bumped into me — literally — at the carnival. I told him to watch where he was going. He said he was, but that I was so busy eating my cotton candy that I walked into him. I told him he was a big, clumsy brute. He started to get mad and I thought he was going to hit me so I said he ought to pick on someone his own size, like the guy in the boxing ring. He took a long look at the boxer and then looked back at me.

He told me to stay right where I was and that he’d be back in no time. Then he walked over to the ring, put on a pair of gloves, climbed in and knocked the poor guy down with three quick punches. Then he tossed the gloves back to the astonished referee, collected his prize money and came back to me with a hundred bucks in his hand. He spent over half of it taking me out to dinner. So after dinner, as he was taking me for a drive in his truck, I told him about a good place to park down by the river.

He fucked me three times before he took me home and I knew, about halfway through the first one, that he was the man for me. Two weeks later he came by again, only that time he never took me home. Instead he took me to the house he’d bought and asked me what I thought of it.

I told him the house looked just fine but the double bed I’d noticed when he was showing me round didn’t seem very strong. Two hours later I had to admit I was wrong — the bed was plenty strong enough and, despite our best efforts, it’s still as solid as it ever was.

Harry said we could have a proper wedding if I wanted one, but I couldn’t see the point of wasting a whole lot of money on a fancy ceremony, feeding all those friends and relatives that I’d never liked. Harry said he thought every girl dreamed of walking down the aisle in a long white dress. I told him I lost the right to wear white when I was thirteen and reminded him that he’d already done it to me half a dozen times himself so there was no point in spending money on a fancy dress. Besides, I told him, everyone for miles around knew that me and my best friend Becky Rogers had never said no to anyone in our lives (except that one time I told you about) and they’d only laugh if they ever saw either of us in white.

He saw the sense in that and we went down to Orleans for a sort of honeymoon. We didn’t get to see much of the city because we spent nearly the whole time in our room, fucking. That was the only time in my life I’ve felt sore down there but, once Harry had been out for some KY, we were okay.

Becky was dead Web Tools jealous. She said she couldn’t believe I was settling down and that I’d be producing a string of babies next. But I think she was mad that she didn’t have anyone to hang out with anymore. She kept reminding me of all the fun we’d had, which was true, but I kind of got to thinking that part of the reason I had so many men was because they never satisfied me. By the time Harry was finished with me, I didn’t have the energy to open my eyes, let alone look at another man. And by the time I was ready for more, so was Harry. Once I’d got him fucking my ass on a regular basis, there was just no need to look for other men.

Of course Becky was itching to find out what was so special about Harry so, for his birthday, I arranged things so they’d both have a treat. I cooked him his favourite meal and somehow managed to keep out of his reach until there was a knock on the door. There was Becky, looking good enough to eat, wearing a short little dress with a big bow on one shoulder. I told Harry she was his present and he had to unwrap her. So he undid the bow and the look on his face as the dress fell to the floor was something else because the only thing that Becky was wearing was a big grin and she told him that I had said he had a big dick. She asked if she could see it. Harry stood there like he was in a daze so Becky just pulled it out.

It was a hell of a night. The Viagra I had ground up and mixed into Harry’s food was worth every cent. He fucked us both at least four times. Whenever he looked like falling asleep, Becky and I would start fooling around with each other which soon had him interested again. Becky told me afterwards that it was two days before she could sit down comfortably again — she’d never had such a big dick up her ass.

Funnily enough, six months later, a visiting county court judge, had occasion to reprimand Becky for soliciting, which was crock of shit because everyone knew she’d never asked for a penny. However, the judge decided to make Becky his special project and took her away with him. Next thing we hear, he’s married her and set her up in a fancy house outside of Memphis. It didn’t stop her dropping by for Thanksgiving though. Without the judge.

Harry seemed pleased to see her — surprise, surprise — and I think it was his suggestion that she stayed over. It seemed the judge had his own supply of Viagra and Becky had brought a couple of tabs with her — just in case! None of us got any sleep and Becky left the next day with sore ass and a big smile.

Harry let me keep the job at the bar to save me from getting bored. Everyone knew I was his woman by then and that if they laid a finger on me they’d be pulp the next day. The two guys I’d given a look to that time, were just passing through so they didn’t know about Harry. It had seemed a bit of harmless fun to me and fifty bucks was fifty bucks, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for them!

The thing was, Harry had fucked Becky senseless on two separate occasions – which was fine by me, don’t get me wrong. However, even though I didn’t particularly want to be fucked by anyone else, it annoyed me that I wasn’t allowed to. In the old days, the only problem had been where to do it because even though the married ones had houses, they didn’t dare take me back there. Now, I had somewhere to do it — a big strong bed that Harry was away from a couple of nights a week — but no-one willing to take the risk and that started to rankle.

One Monday, instead of kissing Harry goodbye as usual, I hopped in with him for a ride to the bus station. Becky had been on at me for ages to go see her in her fancy house and as Harry was going to be away for a week this time, I thought I’d take the opportunity to see how the rich folks lived in Memphis.

Harry had bought me a couple of new dresses to wear because he didn’t want anyone to look down on me. I thought they were way too long. Normally I wear stuff that lets Harry get his hands right where we both want them to be, with the minimum of fuss — and I’ve never heard him complain about that. But these new dresses hung down almost to my knees. When I pointed this out, Harry just grinned and said that since I hardly ever bothered with panties, he wanted to be sure that the good folk of Memphis didn’t discover that fact for themselves. He didn’t want them getting the wrong idea about me. I thought that if those good folks saw me looking all respectable they’d certainly get the wrong idea, but you can’t argue with Harry when he’s in that sort of mood so I wore one dress and folded the other neatly into my bag along with a few bits and pieces, gave him a big kiss goodbye and climbed onto the bus with my ass still tingling from where he’d squeezed it. I was missing him already.

But when Becky picked me up in her little Japanese sports car and handed me a joint almost before we drove away, from the bus depot, I was able to push Harry to the back Online Web Tools of my mind. It was a fun drive back to her place and I told her she seemed to have landed on her feet. She laughed and said she sure had, but sometimes wished the judge had bought her a bigger car because trying to do it in this one was almost impossible. Naturally I asked her who she was doing it with and it seemed her new life hadn’t changed her all that much. With the judge working most days and quite a few evenings, Becky would sometimes go out in her car and, if she happened to find someone she took a shine to, she tended to find herself in a motel doing what she did best.

Smoking grass and waving at all the men we fancied meant we arrived at her place, stoned and giggling. The judge was in court which meant we had the place to ourselves and it was quite a place. Six bedrooms, each with their own bathrooms; a big, fancy staircase and carpets that you get lost in.

For me though, the best thing was the swimming pool. Becky didn’t need to ask twice if I wanted a swim and neither of us bothered with a suit. For the rest of the afternoon we lazed in the sun, jumped in and out of the pool, smoked some more grass and fooled around a little in the big, double hammock Becky had strung in the shade between two trees.

The judge was something of a surprise. The way Becky had described him, he was old, grey and not a long way from a retirement home. In fact he was a pretty fit-looking fifty and I thought the grey hair made him look distinguished, not old. He was very friendly and courteous, asking if I had everything I needed and saying he was glad I’d come as Becky needed to have some friends around.

When the judge locked himself away in his den to work on some case or other Becky suggested we went out for a drink. She had that look in her eye that I remembered well from our early days. It meant she wanted some action. I wasn’t so sure. I hadn’t come to Memphis just to get laid. Fooling around with Becky was one thing, but Harry was the last stranger I’d let into my pants and, for all my moaning about double standards, I wasn’t really looking for sex.

The trouble was, Becky knew me too well. She asked me if it was fair that Harry could fuck her but I had to stay faithful. I told her that that didn’t count, she was a friend of mine and if she wanted me to join her and the judge, I’d be more than happy to oblige. She laughed at that idea and asked me to come with her anyway, even if I was insisting on being good.

So we found ourselves zipping once more across town, ending up in the sort of area where no one knew or cared if you were married to a judge. We went into a bar to shoot some pool but the queue for the table was a mile long and we were about to split and find somewhere else when a guy came up to us and said if we wanted to play pool, he knew where there was a free table and no queues. Becky didn’t believe him until he told us it was in his basement — that’s how he knew it was free. He’d come out for a drink but, if we wanted to play, we could go back with him. Of course, some of his friends would want to come too, he said.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to see what he had in mind but Becky was up for it anyway — which meant I had to tag along as well. So we ended up following Becky’s new friend and two of his mates back to an old house that had seen much better days. To my surprise, there really was a pool table in the basement, along with a fridge and some battered furniture. The fridge was full of beer so we all had one and then I racked up the balls and asked if anyone wanted to play.

Becky said she did, but not pool, which made everyone laugh and the guy who’d invited us promptly took her back upstairs. That left me playing pool with the other two. Things went along nicely for a while and I was leaning over the table, lining up a shot, when I felt something brush against my ass. I thought it was one of the guys trying to get past but it happened again and then he had both his hands on my ass.

I told him the game would take forever if he didn’t let me take the shot but he just laughed and said he didn’t care. He also moved a little closer which meant I could now feel his dick rubbing against my ass. I realised I was going to have to do something so I dropped the cue, turned round and grabbed his balls through his jeans. I told him where I came from, it’s considered rude to stand so close to a girl you hardly know. I also told him it was dangerous because there was always the possibility that he might get his balls squeezed so hard they split.

When I was sure he’d got the message I let go and went right ahead with my shot. I made it too, which meant I’d won. The two guys were really pissed off because we had fifty bucks riding on it. But they were also kind of respectful, which I liked. In fact the one I’d nearly castrated apologised for what he’d done. He said he thought I’d come for some fun like Becky and that he Çevrimiçi Web Araçları didn’t mean any harm.

Now I don’t know about you, but when a guy goes all apologetic on me I can’t stay mad at him. He was still hard, too, despite everything. I smiled at them and said that to show there were no hard feelings I’d jack them both off. They liked that idea so we all sat on the sofa, with me in the middle. Their dicks weren’t as big as Harry’s of course, but they weren’t bad and I set about relieving them of their tension.

Things were moving along nicely when Jeff, the one I’d squeezed, asked me if I’d blow him. I thought it was probably the least I could do after scaring him like I had so I let go of Dwayne and concentrated on Jeff. That was a mistake because, in order to do the job properly, I did what I always do when I’m blowing Harry, which was to kneel next to him so he could fondle my ass.

When Dwayne started doing just that, I was so busy sucking Jeff’s dick that I never thought twice about the hands that eased my panties down to mid thigh. By the time I was fully aware of the situation, Dwayne was sending shivers right through me by the way he was using his fingers. I figured Jeff wasn’t going to last much longer and then I’d turn round to finish Wayne off so there wasn’t any harm in letting him get his fingers wet.

But those city slickers are a bit quicker than the country boys I was used to and, just as I was getting Jeff to the edge, I felt something push its way inside me. I blinked in surprise because I hadn’t expected the sneaky bastard to shove his dick in me without so much as a by-your-leave! It was too late to get mad though, he was already moving nice and slow — just the way I like it sometimes — and I knew if I let him keep going for a while, I was bound to get off — which is always nice.

The only thing left to do was go back to blowing Jeff. Dwayne seemed happy to keep things nice and easy so I was able to match my sucking to his fucking. The bastard got me again though. He waited until Jeff started grunting and trying to ram his dick right down my throat. While I was coping with Jeff shooting his load, Dwayne took the opportunity to pop his dick in my ass.

He was good though, I’ll give him that. It wasn’t long before he had me moaning and sighing and there was no way I was going to make him stop. I came twice before he did and Jeff, who had been watching closely and who proved to be one of those guys who recover quickly, took over as soon as Dwayne pulled out.

Not surprisingly, Becky was in a good mood when she and her guy rejoined us and she thought it was hilarious that I, who hadn’t wanted to get laid at all, had ended up taking twice as much dick as she had. I told her she wouldn’t think it was so funny when she saw what a mess I was making on her fancy leather upholstery. Two guys giving it to a girl a couple of times each, leave a lot of mess behind and I leaked all the way back to her place. But I had to admit it had been fun. As Becky said, it was just like the old days when we used to go out of a Saturday night, looking to see how many notches we could add to our headboards.

I had a shock when we got inside. There was the judge, waiting for us — well, waiting for Becky, really. He didn’t seem too pleased and, when I realised what time it was, I guess I couldn’t blame him. Becky knew exactly how to handle him though.

She went all coy and little-girlish and said she was sorry for being a naughty girl. He said he needed to find out exactly what she’d been doing after which there was a good chance he would have to punish her. When Becky hung her head and said with patently false meekness that her friend had been naughty too, the judge stiffened and looked at me sternly. He asked me if it was true. I thought, what the hell, and went along with it.

He nodded sadly, as though it was too much to expect that any friend of Becky’s would be able to behave herself — which, when you think about it, is actually true. He told us we had disappointed him and that his hands were now tied, so to speak. He instructed us to follow him.

As we trailed along behind him I whispered a question to Becky as to where we were going. Damn me if he didn’t hear and turned to inform me gravely that we were going to the punishment room. I blinked another question at Becky but she was obviously too used to this little game to give anything away. Vowing to murder her once I had the chance, I assumed a look of deep repentance and continued to bring up the rear.

It turned out Becky and the judge had built themselves a little playroom in the basement and, although I hadn’t realised Becky’s tastes ran into bondage and S and M, it was obvious that many a happy hour had been whiled away down here doing just that. What’s more, I realised with a guilty thrill, I was about to be the guest of honour at another session.

Acting on the judge’s instructions, Becky fastened my wrists to a couple of chains hanging from the ceiling. She then pulled on something off to one side, hidden in the shadows and suddenly my arms were hauled up into the air until I was almost on the tips of my toes. My ankles were then secured in a way that kept my feet well apart and I was well and truly helpless.