Cassandra 3: Private Chambers

Miss Cassandra Hudson's extraordinary run of luck had to end. 

However, the truth is there is no reason why providence and opportunity can't keep shining on the sexual exploits of a twenty-year-old woman in public places. You make your luck, they say, and with a pussy and butthole providing the action in a series of increasingly risqué outdoor acts: the pleasure was dynamic, frickin unparalleled and orgasm saturated.

For the first time in weeks, Cassandra was in a public place where getting her knickers off and her dress hitched up was the last thing on her mind. She confronted severe fines, a police record, and endless hours of community service, as she had been caught screwing in public by two female officers of the law who didn't have any lesbian or group sex tendencies. The frigid tarts issued an on-the-spot court summons.

Here, she was outside the judge's chambers in a long ankle-length woollen skirt purchased in a retro opportunity shop. The coarse fibres irritated her thighs. 

However, she had been told by her defence lawyer to dress demurely and create the right impression on the magistrate. 

Cassie was on hold for once in her life whilst lawyers argued points of law or more to the point: the cock wasn't in, and it was just over enthusiastic dry humping on a famous city landmark stone bench.

Her lawyer, aged in his forties, was in there with the magistrate and prosecutor in the judge's private chambers, engaging in legal semantics. Cassie had to love a suave wordy lawyer with a decent cock. Mr Murphy had been humped in advance and her arse to come if he miraculously got Ms Hudson and poor James off on a technicality. There is no case to answer for dry humping. And seagulls splattered guano everywhere, easily mistaken for cum. How embarrassing for the poor couple to be accused of public indecency on Mrs Mac's famous chair.

It was three weeks ago, a gloriously balmy Saturday afternoon. Ms Hudson focused on Mrs Macquarie's chair, an exposed sandstone rock shaped into a bench with a great Sydney harbour view. The fauna of the botanical gardens and the yachts in the distance weren't Ms Hudson's focus; it was James's cock.

James, in this instance, just had to do. She had scared off several guys, who, though very excited at screwing her and risking all for her delectable pussy in the public moment, after they were nearly caught or actually caught in the case of Seb at the Mardi Gras Parade, she needed a stable of new foolhardy cock orientated males. 

James had only had a head job and was willing to do anything for more. More was on offer in the Sydney Botanical Gardens. 

The prime harbour side bench and its fantastic view were strangely empty. Ms Hudson's coochie, by comparison, was soon very full.

Great, thought James, seeing no one around. 

God, his mother and grandmother walked these gardens on occasion. 

He was jittery and edgy, glancing everywhere rapidly. 

Missy Cassie was all relaxed by contrast. She only got excited once the outdoor naughty entertainment got speedily underway. She hoped an audience would catch them at it. Maybe join in.

She had James on the stone bench and straddled him fast before he lost his nerve. Her fanned ponytail bounced and bobbed, as did her delicious, delicate, girly fem-pleats between her thighs.

Her hands unzipped his pants and worked his cock quickly to an erection under her dress. Cassandra's skimpy black panties pulled to the side, and her aroused labia massaged his shaft, so mutually exciting. Her tongue was digging into his mouth.

At the same time, James's hands were under her flimsy floral dress, taking in handfuls of her fabulous arse.

The momentum gathered. The outcome was determined. James poked hard and fast into her moistness. Her slit shaping greedily around his aroused knob. And boy was the thrusting manic and contorted. James pumped for dear life. He didn't want to get caught for public sex. He thrust fast to finish as he entered the petite Miss.

Cassie was ecstatic and pounding down onto James's thickness with gusto. All her senses heightened in the revelry of outdoor excitement. She needed the risk to cum intensely. And she arched her back and nearly skinned her gorgeous knees on the stone seat. Then she adjusted and wrapped her legs, well locked them behind James and went feral with her sensual, heavenly grinding.

This was how sex was meant to be between two randy people. 

"Ooh yes, ooh, yes, fuckin great! Ooh yes, yes, yes!" from Cassie.

Fulsome, electrifying, intense and frickin nearly assuring a mutual synchro climax. They deserved it for their cranked-up effort and the damn brazenness of the famous location.

James was pumping and pumping. Cassie was grinding and humping—perfect paired effort for an amazing outcome. 

God, did James unleash a hot load deep in her expectant orgasming hole. 

Ms. Cassandra Hudson was euphoric in her body-filling climax of epic proportions—fast, no-nonsense, wild sex. 

"Oh God, yes! I'm cumming, ooh yes, ooh, ooh, ooh!"

She couldn't do anything but rest on his legs. Close to his body. Her pussy was stuffed. Her mind happily buggered. She was exhausted. But what a heavenly state of exhaustion. God, this was going to be hard to top. She realised the intensity glowed because James was so worried about being caught. He had piled drive her with goddamn primordial Neanderthal baseness. Cassie basked in slutty delirious euphoria.

James had the common sense to pack his relaxing pecker away. It went down scared fast. As he zipped, he saw the two female police officers approaching Mrs. Mac's chair.

"Oh fuck," was all he thought.

Technically, they weren't caught doing it, but as they were asked to stand separately, there was one hell of a large wet patch right over his crotch. A couple of globs of pearly semen dripped to the concrete path from between Cassie's legs before she closed them tighter.

They weren't asked to explain, and Cassie couldn't see anything but frigid asexual reserve in the pair of mid-thirties women. The thought crossed her mind: Were there women who went without sex for years?

Anyway, here she was, cooling her heels and body outside the judge's chambers. Cassie had that itchy woollen skirt moment. It was the wrong fabric, and its length was unflattering. 

She was about to do the unwomanly scratch under it when her lawyer came out of the judge's chamber and told Cassie, with a broad smile, that a deal had been cut. Still, there was a punishment, and she needed to accept it.

He directed her through the Chamber doors.

Well, for once in her life, Ms. Cassandra Hudson was innocent and not doing the planning.

About age fifty, the prosecutor was in front of her as she went through the door, but where was the magistrate? He didn't appear to be in his chambers.

Cassie went, "Oh...Ah...Yes," with surprise as the judge's finger was up under her skirt, fondling her rear chamber so quickly under her panties and teasing her arsehole to fast excitement.

The prosecutor had her skirt dropped off, which was good...it was itching...but that was nothing compared to the itch he started to ignite...the itch for cock...as her bra and panties were removed with nimble hands and a mouth was sweeping over her titties by turn and fingers were digging into her quickly wet slutty hole. While the judge had a finger, then two deep in her happy arsehole.

If this was punishment, Ms. Cassie was happy to have it administered any day.

There were skilled, sure hands at play, and her young body was writhing to their shared ministrations.

"Mmm, yes, oh fuck yeah, dig a bit deeper, you randy sod! Like that, oh yes, like that!"

Well into his sixties, the judge was a dirty old codger, impressed by her body, not the frickin nineteen-fifties outfit she wore.

 At that age, obviously when only indecent buggery got his cock erect. He bent her over like the tart she was on her charge sheet and dug his cock deep into her back furrow. He was ploughing her cracked grove rudely. Nothing nice about it at all. Giving the tart the hard cavernous cock, she needed and secretly appreciated. He was pounding her to his agenda. Ms Cassie was reduced to a fuck hole.

"Ooh fuck yeah, ooh yes, oooh yes," she pleaded.

Then prosecutor had her bent to take his cock. He was making Cassie take it tonsil deep. He didn't give her a chance to control the rhythm. Like the judge, he was focused on her doing his bidding. He filled her gob so deep and repeatedly deep; she struggled despite her excellent cock knowledge and head-sucking skills not to gag. 

Fuck he dominated her.

When the prosecutor had had his cock pleasured and could see the lass was nearly exhausted, he got both his hands under her thighs. He lifted her slightly and jabbed his erectness straight into her pussy. 

The judge, who had to readjust to the movement, now grabbed her hips and forced her arse back onto his raunchy, still unsatisfied cock.

Ms. Cassie was double-dipped for the first time and hadn't expected it.

Yeah, it was on her mind for future reference and opportunity, but now it was happening here and now to her body. Her twin private chambers of pleasure were mutually satisfied.

"Oh God! Ooh! Ah! Oh Fuck! You bastards. Ooh Fuck! Yeah, yeah, yeah!"

Yeah, true tart here. 

She embraced it. She had that thought; she should have tried it before. It was that frickin good. It was mind-blowing, pleasurably good. She heaved. She glowed. She was building for the mother of all orgasms. Sweet filaments of pleasure escalated in her arse and cunny. 

Her flesh-filled openings, both of them, shaped the lewd action. And the two men indelicately engaged in giving her a sensory surplus.

"Oh, heaven help me!" she shrieked as her defence lawyer invaded her panting mouth.

She was beyond air-tight; a defenceless Ms. Hudson was air-sealed. Her arse was plugged with cock. Her pussy snogged cock in a slushy, lush friction. Whilst her mouth gobbled schlong with a wanton, wicked vehemence.

Miss Cassandra Hudson's chambers combined in a tingly intensification. She basked in the momentary vaginal tightness. She knew it was coming, and boy, did she want it. She had to have this orgasm with three holes overloaded with pleasure. 

The pulsing began, reflexive, the vaginal squeezing, but her arse contracted involuntarily too.

Her breathing soared erratically. Her head went empty except for bodily pleasure and her culminating sweeping, intense orgasmic gratification.

"Oh God...Oh God," she uttered in a high-pitched voice as an internal clit-based throb...throb ...throb of undiluted inward spreading pleasure thronged from her bead. At each pulsation, she moaned loudly.

"Oh Fuck...Fuck...Fuck," she was compelled to yell out between a cock jagging to her tonsils and resting on her beckoning lips.

Her climax was so frickin good as cum filled her mouth, jizz creamed her arse, and sperm flooded her pussy.

Her body was putty pressed between male hardness and bursting cock stiffness.

Cassie drifted into pleasant blissful longing for self as she felt their peckers jerk and release swathes, one after the other. First, the judge creamed her arse, and it felt wickedly delicious. She could feel the cum oozing out from the prosecutor's solid cock. It shot off its load shallowly into her pussy, her lips and clit enjoying the extra sensitive play. She was deluged in all her holes, dribbling everywhere, around her pink butt hole and her sticky cummed covered flapettes and down her thighs and splashed over her black leather shoes was a string of pearl droplets. Her mouth was pasted with man glue.

Cassie embraced the frickin triple cum penetration of her young lifetime.

But the prosecutor, who knew all about obscenity in a legal and a human sense, eased the now relaxed Miss back over the judge's desk and spread her cummed filled orifices and finger fucked her squelch and dug a spare finger into her arsehole at the same time.

Then his face was over her creamy, deliriously sensitive pussy and clit, and he drew out her clit with his lips and worked it with his tongue tip in turn.

Until he swept her to a second, totally stuffed, fulfilling orgasm.

Whilst that dirty bugger, the judge sat back with a leer letch, smoking a cigar.

He ordered the prosecutor, "Spin the bitch around the table."

And à la, in a well-known presidential style, he inserted the stub of the cigar into her fetching fanny and her slick—sloshed starfish for good measure.

He then sucked the cigar heartily.

At least her defence lawyer zipped his pants.

Ms Cassie basked in the awe of her body's sensational high.

She took hit after hit of bliss, the devastatingly arousing seconds of pure bursts of self-happiness that spread in delightful, fitful contagion right through her. 

Sex was unstoppable, unquenchable.

Heaven exists in self, she finally realised.

Eventually, she relaxed beyond relaxation.

So calm, like an eddy of the smoothest lapping internal body waves.

The prosecutor guided her naked self into the chair before the judge's desk.

The magistrate stayed seated on the other side, puffing his cigar. 

His lustful eyes wished he had the stamina of an eighteen-year-old in the presence of such a Jezebel chick.

"Now, Ms Hudson," said the butt-naked judge, "Enough of these public sexcapades. We don't want the whole fucking community going screw-crazy. When you have the urge for something indecent, just come to my private chambers. Plus, you have thirty hours of community senior service in this office to complete. Wear a maid's uniform next week!"

Cassie nodded as she redressed.

She moved on from public sex quickly as a new addiction occurred: Triple and double-barrelled sex with professionals in their offices: architects, accountants, chiropractors, dentists, judges and solicitors.

However, no solo practice ever got her arse, mouth or pussy's attention.

Cassie in Sydney generated by NightCafe.