Well Stripe Me Pink!

Well Stripe Me Pink!

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Erotica

Summary

"Well stripe me pink!" It's something my Grandma said. But what did she mean?

Summary

"Well stripe me pink!" It's something my Grandma said. But what did she mean?

Content

Submitted: July 15, 2018

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Content

Submitted: July 15, 2018

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“Well stripe me pink!”

That’s not one you hear very often these days, is it? It’s a right oldie. Grandma’s time.

Grandma might have said, “Well stripe me pink!” in a moment of surprise, whereas Mum would have said, “Good gracious!”, or Dad, “Bloody Hell!” or your older cousin, (remember? The stoner you used to think so cool back in the day) would’ve gasped “Well I’ll be dipped in dogshit!” and you, in turn, when caught off guard might exclaim, “Holy Fuck!”

It came back to me recently when Danni and I watched an old Korda film from back in the ‘30s. One of the characters said, “Well stripe me pink!” We fell about laughing, then fell into discussion about what it meant. We both knew the phrase from our older relatives, but what Grandma had meant when she said, “Well stripe me pink!” we had no idea.

The web was useless, (by all means have a go yourselves, but it ain’t worth it), so what Grandma’d meant with “Well stripe me pink!” became another of those unanswered questions, along with “Was Morten Hackett really all that good looking?” and “How would Samantha Fox’s tits compare with those of a 21st century model?”

“Well stripe me pink!” might have been completely forgotten about but for a little incident that happen a couple of days ago.

I woke up with a Morning Glory you could break rocks with. Now usually when I wake up with a hard-on on a working day, I try not to wake Danni. I quietly slip into the shower and pull it off to thoughts of Halle Berry or Morena Baccarin. Weekends are no problem, of course – the kids are long gone now, so there’s nothing to stop us staying in bed for the day if we choose. But weekdays – hey, a man’s gotta earn a crust and it don’t do for management to be late.

Unfortunately, that morning, I was just too slow. As soon as I shifted my weight, Danni pushed a sleepy arm around my waist. I guess my standing cock-head must have brushed her wrist, because in seconds I felt her little hand squeeze my old todger and her husky voice whisper “Mine!” in my ear.

You should know that my wife Dannielle is really quite possessive of me – generally it’s okay, but when it comes to sex she is obsessive! I’m not joking, the idea of us having any sexual feeling and not sharing it drives her crazy. Here’s an example: I was off on a business trip, Danni couldn’t come for some reason, just after midnight she calls me to say that she’s randy and wants to play with herself. I tell her that’s fine and am about to put the phone down when she says “I need you to hear!” What followed was a good half-hour of phone filth – Danni’s got a real dirty gob on her when she’s horny and along with the blistering talk there was the sound of her sucking, squelching cunny as she toyed herself with the phone in one hand and the dildo in the other. Of course I was turned on as well and spunked spectacularly when she orgasmed on the other end of the phone. But get this. She made me photograph my semen (there was quite a bit - down my pyjama pants, on the coverlet, even some on the bedside table!) with my phone and send it to her so she could see it! My girl needs to see the account of every individual sperm!

Sorry – I digress – but you needed to know what we’re dealing with here.

Danni threw back the covers and knelt on the bed, eyeing my erection with hungry expression. “Off!” she ordered, tugging at my boxers. I pulled off my t-shirt in a flash as she straddled my legs having disposed of my shorts with rough efficiency.

“Don’t dare move,” Danni hissed, as she slowly unbuttoned her nightshirt. Her breathing deepened as she pushed the shirt off her shoulders and behind her onto the bed. She cupped her lovely breasts in her hands and squeezed. I let out a groan of lust. Her fingers found her plump pink nipples, which she rolled and pulled. It was now her turn to groan. I didn’t think my cock could get any harder. It did.

Leaning forward, Danni’s boobs fell around my shaft; then she began to rock back and forth, slowly, rhythmically. Her gorgeous swinging tits massaged my manhood with a deliciously gentle sensuality, dragging my foreskin off my slick bell-end. I was desperate to squash those rascals around my cock so that I could give my girl a frenzied tit-fuck. But as soon as I lifted my hands, Danni’s insistent voice barked, “Don’t fucking move!”

I lay still.

Danni hitched herself up the bed until her knees were either side of my hips, her cunny poised above my standing penis. She left the fingers of her right hand trace a lazy path over her belly and down through her bronze and copper curls (okay, there’s some wee strands of silver in there these days, but that just adds to the fun!). Her hand went between her legs, rubbing and prodding; in no time I could hear the sensual slurp of her ready sex. Danni shifted her knees, so that her thighs parted a little more and she brought her left hand down, stroking and probing.  She slowly and delightfully let her fingers pull apart her thick hairy outer lips and I was rewarded with a tantalising view of her wet pink gash.

Slowly she lowered herself onto my straining cock. I gasped at the heat of her as her cunt slipped easily over my sticky glans and down my taught shaft.  As she lifted herself up and down, I took great delight in seeing her sweet pink flaps clinging to my sodden shaft on the uplift, then slopping into her great hairy muff as she pushed down.

Pumping her hips against mine like a steam hammer, she threw herself flat upon me, her gorgeous tits squashed against my chest; she was sweating and panting.

“Spank me. Naz!” she rasped, “Spank me!”

I relieved to be able to move finally, so I gave her a great open-finger crack on her sexy big arse.

“Harder, you bastard!” she growled.

I redoubled my efforts, slapping and spanking for all I was worth (not the easiest position to spank your girl, I have to say – but Danni likes her bum paddled now and again, and I’m only too happy to oblige!)

Faster and harder I whacked, faster and harder she bucked and jumped on my ready cock. She started keening and whimpering. I knew she was close. I gave her one big skelp, hard as I could, and she roared in orgasm, stiffening and straightening up, her cunt closing on me like a vice. I spunked up like a fucking firehose.

Her chest and face flushed red and she grinned like a drunk. Then my Danni collapsed on me in a big hefty heap. Her breathing deep and loud.

Our sweat mingled, our breathing synchronised, my cock slipped from her sopping slit with a satisfyingly audible plop, then a spermy gooey blob oozed warmly onto my thigh.  

As I felt it begin to cool, a realisation hit me. Fuck! Work! I shifted a bit.

“Danni, honey. I got to take a shower.” I said, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, okay, “she muttered, “but I have to piss first.” She shuffled off me and the bed, wiped her twat with my discarded shorts, and padded naked to the loo.

As she went through the door, I noticed the damage my spanking had done to her lovely bum: angry finger marks lined her pale skin, straight rosy bars on her creamy curviness, pink stripes on her…

Pink stripes?

PINK STRIPES!

In spanking Danni’s arse, I had striped her pink!

So that’s what Grandma meant?

Holy Fuck!

The dirty old cow.

 

 


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