Kinky Perverted Lesbian Slut by Phookered
Discover the thrilling world of desire in 'Kinky Perverted Lesbian Slut' by Phookered. Dive into this provocative erotic sex story that explores steamy encounters and explicit fantasies. Perfect for fans of edgy lesbian tales, this story promises to ignite your imagination and arouse your senses. Read now and indulge in unforgettable passion!<br/>
This was posted elsewhere years ago, but it’s been updated a bit for republication. A very experienced woman finds a new thrill, and explores it up to the hilt.
In her diary, she wrote:
I’ve been thinking a lot about kinkiness and perversion lately. What’s normal? What’s just kinky, and what is out-and-out perverted? Normal people, I guess, like simple, normal sex. Man-woman vaginal intercourse stuff, with a little oral thrown in for variety. Kinky people like their sex with a twist, maybe with some adventure and some unusual circumstances. And props. Sometimes kinky people get a bit obsessed about their sex – about the thing that turns them on. I’ve been kinky in the past – in fact I’m usually a bit kinky. Perverts, on the other hand, well, perverts have at least two kinky urges that they have to experience together, and are totally obsessed by the thought of doing it. Society has to frown on what they do, or it just isn’t perverted. It’s true that abusive, hurtful sex is perverted, but you’re still considered a pervert even if what you do only freaks people out.
I have to admit it. I have become a pervert. I am completely focused on my asshole, and I’m dying to get deeper into lesbian sex. I want a woman to fondle my ass. I want her to worship it, kiss it, bite and suck it. I want her to lick my asshole. I want her to bury her face in my crack. I want her to shove a vibrator up my ass and fuck it. And while she’s doing that to me, I want to be eating out her sweet, hairless, beautiful pussy.
A day later, she wrote:
I went to The Pearl tonight, and I thought I had the woman. Arab, I think. Beautiful dark eyes. But I made a move and she told me that she was no slut.
And then, of course, I knew it. I’m not just a pervert. I am a slut. A kinky, perverted, lesbian slut. At least right now I’m a lesbian slut. I’ve been a
straight slut for years. God, I love being a slut!
I didn’t fuck anybody today, but I did save the taxi fare home by blowing the driver. He was middle eastern, and had a very skinny cock with a big red circumcised head, and he came in about thirty seconds. He didn’t even touch my breasts until he was already cumming. I’m so horny.
She closed her password-protected diary file, slipped the thumb drive out of the port and into her purse beside her bed, and moved to the internet. The thumb drive went with her everywhere she went. She had been keeping a diary of her sex life – every single detail of her sex life – for twenty years, ever since she left college. It spanned many volumes now, and she had recently copied the old files out to the cloud. It was quite a
story. There was as passionate a deion of the twenty-first time she was fucked up the ass, as the first time. Every lover was described in detail, right down to the unique texture of his balls or the special fragrance of her cunt.
She scanned for new messages in her favourite forums. Her lesbian pictures site was a wasteland of spam, as it usually was.
The one specializing in anal pics was a bit better. Someone had posted a whole series of pictures of a very pretty young blonde taking a cock up the ass while a much older, butch-haired brunette worked on her pussy. They were both clad in bra, garters, stockings and heels, with their
breasts pulled out of the bra cups. Her fingers slid inside the nylon panties that were all she wore as she sat at her desk. Quickly, expertly, with the
experience of decades of daily practice, she began to masturbate. One picture in particular caught her attention, in which the older woman’s fingers were deep inside the young girl’s cunt, the cock was buried in her ass, and both women were facing the camera, beautiful eyes staring out at her. Her right hand worked her clit, while her left hand teased the hard nipple on her naked, full, right breast.
Before she could cum, however, her eye was drawn to something on the screen she hadn’t noticed before. The site advertised another group specializing in fisting. Fisting! Intriguing. Reluctantly withdrawing her hand from her pussy, she clicked on the link. Now this group was something different! Still a ton of spam, but a few nuggets were buried within it. After a few minutes of exploring the pictures, she saw a definite pattern to the pornography. There were usually two women and a man. One woman was either blowing the man or taking him up her asshole, while the other fistfucked her stretched, dripping pussy. Often, they would switch positions, and usually the series ended with cum on the faces of two apparently ecstatically happy women.
Then she saw a variation on the pattern, and gushed into her panties on the spot. Her hands quickly assumed their favourite masturbation positions, and in seconds she was cumming with frantic passion. She whimpered and began stroking herself again.
The picture that caused her such erotic abandon was of a very lovely forty-fiveish strawberry blonde in black lingerie that exposed her medium-sized, round, pert breasts, with a large, hard cock up her pussy, and the tiny fist of a very young-looking, very cute blonde, buried to the wrist in her asshole! This was her secret perversion embodied. She must be fistfucked up the ass by a cute young blonde, and soon!
She returned to The Pearl the next night, and positioned herself at the bar, short tight skirt hiked up to show her long, shapely nylon-clad legs to best advantage; buttons on her silky white blouse undone enough to expose her full breasts to view when she moved just the right way. It was very clear that she was on the make. She refused the offer of a drink, politely, from a dyke in jeans and a t-shirt, before a very attractive young lady sat down beside her. This was not the blonde of her fantasy, but she was worth investing some time in. The girl was about five foot three, with short dark brown
hair and beautiful brown eyes. She wore a cream-coloured pant suit with a matching blouse, that rivalled hers in undone buttons and exposed breast.
“I’m Victoria,” the older woman said.
“Karen,” the pretty little thing responded in a low voice, eyes lowered.
Karen bought her a drink, which the tiny brunette handed to Victoria. After her first sip, Victoria placed the drink on the counter and took Karen’s hand in hers. She watched the girl glance at her crossed legs, which Victoria slowly uncrossed so that she could lean closer. “You have beautiful hands,” she purred seductively. “So soft, so – tiny. This one’s a perfect size.” The young woman looked up sharply.
“Do you like hands?” the pretty brunette asked.
“I love hands,” was the reply. “I’m really getting into hands. Small hands are best, don’t you think?” She closed the girl’s fingers into a tight ball, raised it to her lips and kissed it softly, then continued in an even lower voice, “Fists are nice, too…”
“I – I’m not a – an expert – on fists. Hands. But I suppose small hands would be – better.” She took the older woman’s hand in hers, stroked it gently, frowning. “Yours is pretty too, but I wouldn’t say it’s small…”