I Punter

By Anne Summer

This is Anne's story. After a long and loveless marriage and divorce, she discovers a sex toy in the back of a cupboard. She tries it out, timidly at first but with a rapidly growing surge as her buried sexuality bursts over her, overwhelming her in lustful need. Her sensual inner self takes control and sends her forth to find a fulfilling sexual love. She succeeds beyond her wildest imagining

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anne Summer
• Release date: Jan 13, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301544066

Anne Summer

We believe that women are emotional and loving rather than just sex-crazed animals. As such, the kind of erotica that we enjoy, perhaps crave, are basically gentle and affectionate rather than simply raunchy, even debauched.Our stories reflect this. Fundamental niceness and a degree of refinement in use of language is what we seek to achieve.Please Welcome my co-author, ? Sandy Sinful (or Sinful Sandy if you like!) Sandy joins me to make our team "Sinful Summer" in celebration of long hot, steamy nights of pleasure, taken in the delight of beautiful, masculine men and sometimes lusty women too! We are here to enjoy and be enjoyed. Sigh!

Book preview

Chapter 1 – Meeting a new kind of God

I am approaching the wrong side of Fifty. Well, certainly I’m leaving the right side of forty. Actually, I’m 44. And now that Ben has gone to uni, I am alone in what they euphemistically call ‘the former matrimonial home’. I’m very fond of this house and it has a lovely garden. I can’t really remember living anywhere else and the thought of leaving it makes me feel a bit panicky deep inside but as I can’t afford to buy out Michael’s interest and I am currently redundant there doesn’t seem much alternative. He isn’t pressing me but it was agreed that once the boys had gone, it was too big for my needs. So it will have to be sold and the proceeds divided.

That, in a nutshell is the history. Anybody’s story, these days.

Actually I am in a state of shock and I didn’t think that there was anything left in life that would be capable of having such an effect on me! So what I have always done at times when I needed to settle my thoughts is to record my feelings on this cassette recorder. I’ve done it lots of times in the past, but I’ve always erased the tapes. Precaution against Mike or the boys finding and playing them, I suppose, but that doesn’t matter now, there’s only me to listen to them.

I’ve started sorting out the junk, not that there is a lot. In a haphazard sort of way. Anything to do with Michael first. Then the contents of unwanted cupboards. Which is how I came across the Ghost of Christmas Past in the boxroom. A Tallboy full of part-used wrapping paper and the silly toys that people who should know better buy for each other for a cheap laugh. There haven’t been many of those since he left, what – 5 years ago? In fact, I don’t suppose I’ve looked in the cupboard more than a couple of times since and as it was locked against the boys for no good reason that I could remember, it had acquired a vague sense of mystery when I found the key and opened it up. A musty mystery.

Out with the crumpled heap of secondhand wrapping materials and suchlike junk into a bin liner, revealing two books with smutty titles. Why sex is fun and Wicked Willy , a particularly stupid offering. And one about drinking games. All into the bin liner.

An anonymous box with my name on it. I remember – it was an amusing little gift at the time, to everybody except me, that is – though I pretended to enjoy the joke. And the reason why the tallboy was locked. I opened it up and took out the contents, mysteriously and sensuously wrapped in purple velvet. I had never really properly looked at it before consigning it to the perpetual darkness of the back of the tallboy.

I rather timidly undid the purple drawstring and drew Him out. He was an object of surprising beauty, a life-sized, flesh-coloured fully erect penis, exactly six inches long (I measured Him later) and generous in girth, complete with scrotum and testicles which could be filled with fluid and squeezed to simulate an orgasm. I remember studying Him for some time, experimentally kneading his spongy tissue between my fingers. The texture was exactly the right firmness. The Head of Him was a little softer and more yielding, whoever had made Him had had a good sense of detail.

A movement reflected in the mirror inside the Tallboy’s door. I turned it to face me and found myself locking eyes with a familiar stranger. Hair awry, faintly flushed face, a little tubby maybe but overall not bad looking for her age, holding a large and very realistic erect penis in her hands. We were wearing an ancient pink quilted housecoat and nothing else. I must have remained there for some time, on my knees gazing at myself in a trance and then, quite without conscious thought I began to unbutton the housecoat and dropped it off my shoulders. I have protuberant nipples and unusually dark aureoles, and my nipples were beginning to point up erect. I became aware of my pulse in a whole-body sort of way and I was beginning to breathe more heavily than usual. It was warm in the room and I remember feeling damply and pleasantly warm too, but in my groin, more so. I touched myself thoughtfully, slipped a finger inside myself. I was wet.

She slowly rose onto her haunches and then lowered Him down, parted our legs and touched Him gently against my vulva. His head slipped easily inside me with a little pushing open sensation, though I hadn’t had sex since longer ago than I cared to think about. It was then that I lost control. I was oozing wet now as I pushed him carefully inward, his bulk gently pressing me open until I had taken all six inches of Him. The sensation was indescribably beautiful. Little ripples of muscular contractions fluttered through my long unaccustomed vagina. She slowly began to work Him into and out of me and I revelled in His fullness. I began to sweat and my breath came more urgently. My vagina settled into rhythmic contractions in time to the thrusting. His will seemed to be dominating me, I was stroking Him faster and more vigorously, ramping back and forth, rocking on my knees on the floor. My vagina bathed Him with my womanly wetness, so much that slippery fluid oozed out over the inside of my thighs and my hands where I held Him. I was beginning to moan with delight and then I felt the beginning of the great surging wave of pure pleasure as the orgasm began between my legs and exploded outwards, over my pulsating belly and through my tingling, swelling breasts until it seemed to consume my whole being.

When it was over, I sank down into a crouch and my head slumped forward on to my forearms pressed on the floor. I was sobbing. I was shaking all over and a vast warmth was glowing within my belly. I sobbed and sobbed and tears flowed from my eyes, wetting my arms as something locked up inside me flooded out into the open of my consciousness. A sorry mixture of loneliness and deep frustration for sexual experience long denied and suppressed in a marriage that had not really functioned from its earliest days, now thought to be gone forever. How long I lay there, I do not know, but at length the emotion was all expressed, all poured out and the weeping subsided, breathing came back to normal, my perspiring body became cooler and relaxed. Only the languorous warm glow deep inside my belly remained, of a pleasure taken and one that was bound to be taken again. I looked up at her red and swollen face and then she smiled at me, a weepy but somehow very happy little smile.

I tottered on trembling legs in to the kitchen and made a drink for myself while I gradually came back to a degree of normality. And then I came into the study, still in my unbuttoned housecoat, sat on my little round, padded bar stool and connected up my cassette recorder to make this tape.

I’ve never thought of myself as a highly sexed person, Michael was my only proper lover and I realise now that he was nervous and anxious about his own sexuality. So it isn’t surprising that things didn’t work out very well between us. Our sex life was tense and perfunctory and effectively finished once Ben was born. I like to think that I had an orgasm when the children were conceived, but I doubt it on the basis of what has just happened to me – Michael’s last, forgotten present. Wouldn’t he have been surprised to see me doing what I’ve just done!

There’s one thing you can do with Him that you can’t do with a man. He is still inside me, still proudly erect and I have that wonderful feeling of fullness and warmth He brings me. Every movement of my lower body reminds me of His waiting presence – I haven’t been able to bring myself to remove Him. Walking around with Him teasing my vagina from within is a delicious pleasure. His scrotum moves Him to the rhythm of my walking movements sending out tiny, delightful thrills as He moves inside me.

There is a spreading, damp stain on the fabric surface of the stool. My legs are as wide open as I can make them go. I am looking at Him where He enters me and I am touching, then holding His scrotum and moving Him gently outwards. And my vagina is gripping on to Him and holding stickily back, awakening powerful sensations again. I am working Him back and forth to my own rhythm this time, going very slowly and savouring each moment of each sensation, watching Him moving in and out of me. Now my hands are acting on their own, His will is consuming me and I am pressing Him in deeper each time and with an ever quickening pace. My nipples are like little puckered up plums. I am dying of unbearable pleasure and I want it to go on and on and on…….

He had grown bigger and rounder in His girth and He was cramming me so wonderfully full, and He was warm and gently pulsing so that my whole being was centred around Him in an internal throbbing embrace that I wanted to last for eternity. My hands were trying to work Him in and out but He was so big and powerful now that I could only cause my vagina to stretch and press along with Him, drawing my whole entrails to His commands - and the only rule was maximum sensations of joy, just for me, to make up for my neglected past….

The click of the tape coming to the end of the reel awoke me. I was lying across the desk, on a pillow I must have brought along with that in mind. And He was still inside me, just as I wanted Him to be, warm and swollen and still emitting slow waves of pleasure for me to savour. I was beginning to recall the later frenzied peaks of pure delight as He lifted me ever higher on the pangs of orgasm and I knew that I was going to have to have Him time and time again to the point of exhaustion.

Eventually, I took a long, hot bath and only then, while lying in the water, did I slowly draw Him from me, leaving an emptiness but at the same time a deep warm glow that would form the physical and emotional centre of my body for ever from now on. I kissed Him, washed and dried Him and filled his testicles with Bailey’s cream liqueur. He is at my bedside, wrapped in His purple robes, waiting for the morning and I am drifting off into a deep sleep redolent with sated pleasures.

Chapter 2 Learning how to Pray

I slept soundly for 12 hours, an untroubled rest from which I awoke next morning feeling better than I had done for a long, long time. As sleep gave way to the day, I pushed myself up into a sitting position and at once set my eyes on the purple-clothed object on my bedside table. I still occupy the king-sized marriage bed and I still have two pillows, though I tend to lie in the middle and one of them gets pushed aside, sometimes dropping to the floor. I swung my legs from under the duvet over the side and stood up, now deliberately avoiding looking at Him.

I always sleep naked, in some ways it was as a kind of statement to Michael and now I cannot sleep any other way. I looked at myself in the full-length wardrobe mirror and I was pleased with what I saw. Good breasts, set off by my special nipples and their surrounds and a figure which looked pleasantly nubile and well proportioned. Memory of yesterday’s events were accompanied by a faint but warm sensation between my legs but at the same time I felt unsure about the shattering events which had surged over me and wanted time to think about them. Not guilt, exactly (for heavens sake why should I) but time for circumspection. I pulled on my housecoat, the only garment I had worn now for over 24 hours, and went down to the kitchen, to make breakfast and reflect.

On the way, I collected my tape recorder from the study, noting, but otherwise ignoring the staining on the seat of the stool. I rewound it and played it back as I ate my toast and muesli.

The power of the spoken word! I began to feel excited almost as soon as I overheard the voice which must be mine but which I hardly recognized. It was husky and low pitched and my breathing could clearly be heard in between sentences. By the time I had reached the end of my narrative, I was trembling. And the inside of my thighs was beginning to feel a slippery slickness from the vaginal fluid which was flowing from within me. Very soon I would be impelled to go upstairs to Him.

And the tape continued to run. In rapt awe, I heard my own heavy breathing and then a series of little catches in my throat in time to a faint but definite sucking noise. The tape was catching everything, the rub of my buttocks on the stool, the suck and pull as I thrust Him in and out of me…. The catch changing into little muted cries gradually blending into a continuous mewing sound from the back of my throat, growing louder and undulating in rhythm with my accelerating pace and louder rubbing, pressing and sucking. Now breaking up into gasps, then louder cries and finally long, deep moans breaking into sobs as the climax came. Dying back into quietness, rustling of the pillow and then the deeper breathing of sated sleep.

I changed the tape and took the recorder to the bedroom with me. I could hardly climb the stairs, I was so excited. I plugged in the recorder and laid it on the bed next to me then took Him out of His cloak. I lay back on the bed, raised Him to my lips, took Him into my mouth and sucked and kissed His Head, then opened my legs and felt once more that wonderful instant of penetration into my wet, oozing and throbbing vagina. He slid succulently into me with an audible slurping sound. I moved my buttocks until they were touching the recorder, thrust Him fully into me, and gave myself up to Him in an ecstasy of wanton abandon, thrusting with deep, strong strokes which set my vagina once more into rhythm with Him. Time no longer existed, only the insatiable inferno raging deep in my belly.

Many minutes later my climax rose to its huge crescendo and I squeezed hard, feeling the Bailey’s flood into my waiting womb with pulse after pulse until He was empty, still thrusting, my buttocks bucking on the bed and then sinking back into quiet, with only the pumping of my heart and my slowly steadying breathing, falling into sleepy relaxation.

And I had watched the whole thing in the mirror.

I put my knickers on before too much seeped out of me and the gusset became soaked almost at once in a cocktail of Bailey’s and me. I stopped the tape. I wasn’t ready to listen to it yet and I had to go out of the house to get some shopping, hunger was taking over.

Outside, I felt extremely strange. Were people looking at me in the supermarket? Could they sense what I had been up to? Could they smell me? Smell sex on me? Smell Bailey’s? Certainly, there was plenty to smell! My soaking knickers had taken on an erotic joy all of their own. Every movement, every step caused them to cling to me with wet stickiness. The cloth was working its way into the crack of my buttocks and now into the front of my vagina. The five-minute walk home was almost a psychedelic experience.

I reached the safety of my own house, I needed to eat, then lie down for a while.

Sleepy and relaxed now, I went back to the bedroom and lay down. He was washed, dried, refilled, put back into his purple cloak and laid on the spare pillow. I rewound and ran the tape. The sounds coming from it were enthralling because the machine had only been inches away from Him as He worked me to His will and I could hear every detail. The sucking, slobbing, surging was punctuated by the creaking of the bed as I rose and fell to Him, with my rising cadence of gasps and cries in the background. By the time it finished, I was sweating and trembling and my vagina was beginning to pulse in anticipation.

I pushed the bed up against the wardrobe and got back on to it. Lovingly, I unrobed Him. I knelt up on the bed with my buttocks close to the mirror and restarted the tape. My breasts hung pendulously with their dark aureoles and erect, hard nipples. Between my open thighs my labia were a darkly mysterious, invitingly moist place. I held him behind me and that other woman in the mirror guided him inside me as I watched and felt with delight His Head pushing me open. She slid Him in to me to His full length and then she began the rhythmic, strong thrusting which I was coming to love so much. The new position was fantastic, the pleasure, if anything more intense but taking much longer to reach climax and the orgasm, when it finally came was the greatest I had yet experienced. I sank, exhausted on to the bed, shaking like a leaf.

I must have lain there for a long time, gradually relaxing, feeling the fluids slowly seeping past Him out of me on to the bed, loving the gentle glow of warmth and the fullness of Him still inside me. Just before I drifted off into a doze, I remembered a single persistent thought running through my mind.

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if He was even bigger!’

Chapter 3 Serving the Temple

In the morning, I sucked Him off. The Bailey’s tasted nice but otherwise it didn’t do a lot for me.

An hour later, she helped Him to take me, standing up in front of the bathroom mirror, one foot up on the toilet top. She plunged and thrust Him into me and my thighs thrust back in what already had become a familiar cadence of pleasure until my legs were trembling so much that I had to waddle to the bedroom and lie down. I rolled on to my back and settled in the easiest, most comfortable position with my knees drawn up, legs falling wide open and a pillow at my head so that I could watch better what she was doing with Him. With the tape running, I willed her to work me more slowly so that I could relax and take full enjoyment from Him and so she did for a long while.

But, in reality He had me pinned to a rack of pleasure and once my strength had returned He forced me up on to my knees and They worked me harder than They had ever done. They used the full power of both my arms to thrust Him back and forth, his full length shining with my vaginal fluid at each back stroke. I knew that I was gasping and crying out, jerking, bucking and writhing to Their commands. My body was soaked in sweat, it was running down my face, my arms and off my breasts until I came at last in an enormous flood of joy and release and I slowly sank back on to the duvet.

And I had remembered to turn on the recorder.

I lay there in utter exhaustion until my breathing became regular and my pulse stopped shaking my whole body. The perspiration dried on me and I felt cool and deliciously relaxed until I dozed off. Whenever I slept now I was having my Big Dream. He had grown fatter inside me until I could only just make Him move within me and the pleasure radiating from all the surfaces of my vagina was utterly intense and loving. I could hold him locked immovably by contracting on to Him, to remind Him that I have a will of my own. And once again, the click of the cassette recorder awoke me to find Him still inside me and my vagina warm and glowing with the acceptance of His presence and His fullness.

It is Thursday and I had found Him on Monday morning, since which time He has filled every one of my waking moments and most of my sleeping ones. He has brought me to an ecstasy of climax seven times in three days and He has lain within my body for over twenty-four hours in total. I had lived on a series of peaks with lower level periods of pleasure as I felt His swollen presence within me, listened to my tapes or went out shopping in my flooded knickers. I continued to lie on the bed, so pleasurably fatigued that I doubted if I would be able to stand up.

I rewound the tape and listened, both entranced and appalled by the cries, gasps and moans that He had dragged from my throat. At the end I had cried out so loudly that it was almost a scream, falling back into a series of racking sobs, then just gasping breath, slowly subsiding into quietude.

Thank goodness it was a detached house.

I was a completely changed woman. In three days my life had become unrecognisable from how it had been before. I had been living on a great high of new and utterly overwhelming physical experience, it was like a drug that I was always going to be a slave to. And I knew that I was going to set out from here on to make up for the twenty years or more of denied and wasted sexuality that had been my marriage to Michael and its aftermath. I had become a rampant female sexual animal in just those three days.

But the high was coming down because it had to or I was going to waste away. There were other things in life that had to be done. I resolved to put Him away until Saturday night.

Chapter 4 The Gospel According to Me

Friday morning I got up early, showered, dressed and breakfasted then set off to the shops. I bought the weekend’s provisions and two bottles of wine, then called in at the video shop. I spent 20 minutes searching for three innocent sounding films and also quickly added two titles, almost at random, from the ‘adult’ section which I stacked underneath. The youth behind the counter didn’t even notice and he wouldn’t have been sophisticated enough to raise an eyebrow even if he had.

I busied myself about the house and garden until the early evening and then settled myself in the living room with a bottle of wine and some Pringles, the tape recorder and the videos. The first one had a picture of a naked woman on it. She was very pretty, blonde (of course) and had a perfect ‘hourglass’ figure which she was displaying to maximum benefit