She wanted - compiled (The Fiona Files)
Part I - She wanted
She wanted to fuck. Pretty much that was it. Sure, she liked him well enough, but mostly she wanted sex. He was available, made no secret of it. He was open to anything, said as much in the coffee shop. Drew a map. Seven miles. Too far to walk? Not really. It was uphill, but the sun was out and hills were green. She never stuck her thumb out or looked up at the cars that slowed and offered a ride. She spent the time thinking about him. About the way his jeans sat on his hips. About the way his shirt hung off his shoulders. He had an easy way, didn’t try to get over on her. Available that’s all. I’m out Old Farm Road. Nope, no phone, but I’ll be home. Cool. So she walked. Stopped twice to pee and drank all her water. Her pack cut into her shoulder and she had to move it from one side to the other. He would be the first guy she ever topped. There had been girls that she had gotten on, but guys were harder to come by. They all liked that she was Bi, but they were all straight or at least didn’t have an interest in reverse anal - that’s the name she gave it. She was always happy to offer the third hole - but the deal was; you too. Reverse anal. Back at you boy. She liked it. Liked being a girl. But she liked being in disguise too. Liked being a topper but no one really having any way to know until sex. She had plenty of time to think of it in the miles she walked. Johnny looked like any other good looking guy, but he was a bottom. A top for sure, but a bottom too, like her. She liked that this guy that lived in the hills would be underneath her, that his strong legs would part, that she would settle between them and press into him. Would he kiss her? Moan? Fuck back? What? She realized she was getting wet. She had a strong desire to lift her hem and touch her pussy. Or to take the dildo out of her pack just to have it in her hand. Something. She was becoming extremely sexed. The last mile went pretty fast, in fact she could remember none of it. She saw the house down in the gully. Old brick, worn out, tractors, bikes, rusted cars, nice Chevy 4X4, farm pond and Johnny. Johnny in the garden. Not just a garden though. Crops. Johnny, shirtless and tan, lean and handsome in dirty jeans and barefoot. Nice. Yellow dog. Yellow dog barking. Barking and charging and wagging. Dog! Dog!. That’s Fiona. Be cool. Dog! He’s okay. Hi Dog. Hi Johnny. Hey. Fiona, you made it. You live here alone? All this? I do. Swim? Johnny got naked. Not much to it really, just unbuttoned his jeans and they dropped. Brown back, white ass, tangle of bush and a nice hang. He dove in and disappeared. Fiona was next. Kicked off her dirty Nike’s. Dress over her head, roll the panties off and toss them in the grass. Small tits, sweaty bush, hair swaying across bare shoulders. She dove in, swam under water until she found him. Part II - When Turnabout is not fairplay “The most curious thing had happened. For the first time that she could remember, she was pursuing a man. He had something she wanted and seemed to know it. The more acute her desire became the more he seemed to relax and draw her in. And he was content to wait, he was in no hurry. Johnny cloaked his desire in a steady stream of gentle brush by’s, sweet arm touches and breezy conversation. He had to have known what he was doing, either that or he was evil or stupid. Never had she thrown so many signals, been so overt. Anytime she had wanted someone she had just moved in and taken, gotten close enough to throw heat, to throw scent and then seduced. For god’s sake, the smell of sex coming from her soaked panties was driving her wild. How could he not seem to notice, not melt? The more she saw of his ass and his sweet bare feet, the less she knew about herself. She was becoming a puppy, all but yapping at his heels. In the worst way she wanted to just spin him around, pin him to the wall, make him strip from the waist down - show the man her peg and make him her own. But Johnny threw off her timing, would not come to her song.” Part III - She took She took him there by the narrow stair. Spun him around, took him down. Elbow crash, plaster smash. Went down hard. The old house groaned. On him fast. Out of those jeans. She took him there at the bottom of the stair. Where the plaster was broken and the paint was gone. Drove him like a bus. She took him there in a pile of clothes. A pile of clothes all dirty and worn. Johnny’s a talker or so it seems. Oh-oh-baby-oh-baby-oh. Got real quiet when the ride got rough. Didn’t say much when the big waves hit. No more oh-baby-oh. She took him there. She brought him back. Took him out, shook him out, wore him out. She heard him pledge his love. She took him there with his neck all bent. Rode him steady and lead him home. Even and hard til he came like girl. Full body shakes. Eyes all glazed. Shakes and shivers. Balled up fists. She took him there. Watched from above. Rolled her hips. Gave him a bang. Rocked her body. Gave him a boom. They’re easy to handle. When there’s no where to go. What’s not to like. Good to have a toy. She took ‘m down easy but his limbs still shook. Took ‘m down easy. He begged and kissed. Took ‘m down easy now, easy now easy. Oh-my-baby-my-baby-oh Easy now easy, oh-baby-oh. Easy now. Oh my-baby-my-baby-oh Who’s talking now. Easy now. Who made who my-baby-oh? -ryder
