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Jude`s Older Man

31955 words

Style: Male Dom - M/F

Jude was a bit of a tomboy in her small town. She kept pretty much to herself, and worked in her uncle's sporting shop. Her boring life was just looking for some excitement, and Callum was more than willing to supply it. He was almost old enough to be her father, but there was something hot about him, something sexy, something dangerous. She had no idea that older men were as kinky as they were, but it was a thrilling game he led her on, a game of bondage and submission she sometimes thought goofy, sometimes irritating, but always exciting.
Every weekend he returned to town, hunting, and dominated Jude the way no man ever had before. Bondage turned to punishment, and still she played along. Then he began to bring friends with him, subjecting her to more humiliation and pain - and more excitement, than she had imagined existed. Every weekend the previously innocent small town girl became a sleek sexual animal and playtoy to older men and women, and then tried to return to her normal life during the week. But the influence of her weekends began to change her, and Jude's kinky sexual lifestyle began to overtake everything else in her life.

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Chapter One
Jude idly scratched her chest as she flicked through the channels on the satellite dish. Two hundred channels of crap, her dad said, and it was hard to argue. But there wasn’t a hell of a lot else to do in this crappy little town late on a hot summer weekday night unless she wanted to go out and get drunk and let some drunken idiots paw and grope her.
And given the quality of the drunken idiots in this town that just didn’t appeal to her.
Jude’s sex life, in fact, was practically non-existent. She could count the dates she’d had in the last year on one hand and still have change left. Sometimes that bothered her, but mostly not. Her life experience had thus far told her that dating was often less interesting than flicking through the channels on TV, and quite a bit more complicate and expensive.
At twenty-three, she had more or less resigned herself to ignoring men for a while, for the years it took them to grow up to the point they were worth knowing. Young men, in her experience, had the instincts and brains of a dog in heat, were prone to saying and doing really dumb things, and thought of women as something handy to masturbate with before getting back to their drinking and video games.
Jude didn’t consider herself a snob – exactly. She was, after all, sitting on her patched sofa wearing men’s boxer shorts and a loose tank top drinking a Coors and tossing a ball across the room for her terrier Max to scramble after. She had no great life ambitions to write poetry or play music or solve terrible diseases. She was not an intellectual and knew it and didn’t care.
She was more than comfortable with who she was, with her self image as someone who was extremely bright, extremely sensible, down to earth, reliable, and very good at her job.
She lived in a century old clapboard, two bedroom house on Burgundy Street, the main road in the town of Renfrew. Not that Burgundy was exactly a highway, but there was fairly steady traffic – for Renfrew, a town with no need of street lights. She worked at her Uncle’s hunting and fishing shop four blocks up the way.
Truth be told, though she’d never admit it, Jude liked Renfrew. It had its problems, of course, and there was plenty there to make fun of (making fun of people and things was pretty much Jude’s only real hobby), but it was as comfortable as an old, worn shoe – one without holes. She’d been to the city, and didn’t like it at all. It was a soulless place filled with busy unhappy people, way too much traffic, and way too few trees.
She liked the slow, laid back life of Renfrew, and even if she didn’t like all the people in it, the place was – tolerable.
She sighed and stood up, stretched, and turned off the TV. She turned and gazed briefly outside. Her front window all-but filled the outer wall of her small living room. The house was old, but someone had renoed it back in the nineties, and the window was knee to roof, letting in a lot of light in the daytime. Of course, it was also only about six feet from the sidewalk, giving anyone who passed a voyeur’s view of her living room, but that didn’t overly bother her. She wasn’t the type to wander around in revealing lingerie, after all, nor, truth be told, was she very self-conscious about people looking at her.
The curtains were wide open to let in the air on this sticky summer night, and there was virtually no traffic outside. She padded up the steep, narrow staircase to the second floor, ignoring the jumbled mess of the second bedroom – her storage room, really, and casually stripped off the tank top as she stepped across the threshold of her bedroom.
She went to the window and turned on the air conditioner, then threw back the covers and skinned off the boxer shorts before padding out of the room, closing the door behind her, and going into the small bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror, checking her face for acne, and satisfied at finding none. Her bright brown hair was left more or less to hang as it chose, dropping thick and loose around her slender shoulders. It was – again – getting too long in front, where she parted it at the left and let it curve across her forehead. She was continually having to brush that aside now as it dangled over her right eye, and told herself – again – that she needed to get it cut.
She had an oval face, with a short, slim nose, bright green eyes and full lips on a narrow mouth. She was, in everyone’s reckoning, a pretty girl, cute-pretty, not sexy-pretty. It was the kind of pretty that had old people smiling and patting her head, not the kind of pretty that had men growling and lusting after her. Which was okay by her way of thinking.
Not that she didn’t have guys going after her, of course, at least, those who hadn’t yet met her razor sharp tongue and mocking expression of contempt too closely. Jade was a cynic, and something of a loner. She had yet to find a guy who met her standards of intelligence and common sense, and she doubted she would before hitting thirty. But that was fine, too. She had little need for them.
She brushed her teeth carefully, leaning over the sink. Jude was a responsible girl in all things, but took special care when it came to things like avoiding painful and expensive visits to the dentist. After she was done she flossed rather less carefully, then let her mouth burn with mouthwash for thirty seconds before spitting it out and putting her mouth under the water.
Her breasts pressed against the porcelain cool of the sink, pillowing out beneath her. They were – noticeable – but not overly large. They were a good size for her slender body, full and round, but not bouncing around every time she moved around. But then, Jude was an athletic girl, a sports loving girl, and her body had the muscular strength of youth.
She straightened up, spat out the water, turned off the water and lights, and padded back across the hall to her bedroom. It was already noticeably cooler. It hadn’t taken long for the air conditioner to make a major difference. Then again, it was a small room, barely large enough for the double bed and a small dresser. As it was the foot of the bed was no more than two feet from the south wall, the one looking down on her back yard. And maybe a little more from the east wall, which looked across at her neighbor’s house.
There were big two windows in the room, letting in plenty of sunlight during the day – though she’d kept the one on the east wall curtained ever since discovering the neighbor’s teenage son spying at her while she undressed last year. Jude might not be self-conscious, but that didn’t mean she was an exhibitionist either. Teenage boys could find plenty of reasons to masturbate without her helping them along.
She walked over to the air conditioner and let it blow on her nude body, cooling off the sweat she’d accumulated during the evening. She brushed the bangs out of her face and combed her hair back with her fingers, reveling in the cool flow air, turning slowly in place to let it blow on her back, then her chest again. She brought her hands up and cupped her breasts, noting that her nipples were erect, and rolled them idly between her thumbs and fingers.
Speaking of masturbation….
She turned and rolled into bed, laying back with her hands under her head and staring out at the night as she let her body continue to cool down. Her hands moved casually over her body, caressing her breasts, tweaking the nipples. She pinched and tugged at them, her breath catching as she felt the sudden stinging sensation. She imagined a handsome, smooth talking man, his face curved into a cynical grin which might mirror her own, imagined him licking and biting at her nipples, his hands sliding across her flesh.
She drew her knees up slowly and spread them apart, then turned and reached for the night table, opening the drawer and pulling out her dildo. She gripped it in her right hand, moving it down between her legs, and letting the head roll slowly up and down her bare, smooth little sex.
Jude wasn’t a follower of most modern fashions, and didn’t have a single thong in her underwear drawer, but she’d never had more than a scraggly looking bush, and found that she looked and felt much cleaner with nothing there at all. That also made her more sensitive to the touch of the latex cockhead as she rubbed it up and down her slit.
She drew her knees still further, feeling the tendons in her thighs stretching and straining as she shifted the angle on the dildo and began to push it into herself. The excitement within her began to rise as she felt herself being penetrated, and she used the muscles in her legs to raise her bottom up off the mattress as she kneaded one of her breasts with her other hand.
She felt herself moistening, and twisted the dildo slowly from side to side, jabbing it lightly, pulling it in and out, working it slowly deeper into the soft, velvet tunnel of her sex. She spread her legs wide, wide apart now, groaning as she held her bottom aloft, thrusting the dildo deeper than her body wanted it to go so she would feel the ache of the penetration.
Her kneading fingers pinched and plucked at her nipple as she imagined it was being bitten, and she let her head roll back, eyes closed as she thrust the dildo into herself. She stopped abruptly, letting her butt fall and rolled onto her belly. She rose on her knees, legs spread wide, the base of the dildo against the mattress, then leaned forward, hands on the pillow and let herself sink slowly down, grunting with the ache and the pleasure.
Penetration. She loved penetration, the bigger, the deeper, the better. She groaned as her tight sex spread wide, her pussy lips straining to envelope the shaft of the big dildo. The head pushed deeper into her body, and she shuddered as she felt it reaching higher and higher.

* * * *

She hung by heavy metal manacles, her arms and legs spread wide in mid-air, her body tense and straining. A metal mask covered her jaw and mouth as the smoothly moving arms lifted her and turned her and settled her slowly down onto the massively thick post between her spread legs. Thicker than her arm the rounded, oiled, gleaming nose of the post pushed against her sex, and slowly forced its way into her as she was lowered.
Inch after inch slid up into her body as she writhed and twisted against the manacles, and she felt it aching and bruising her as it forced its way up through the elastic sleeve of her sex and into her very womb. Then the whip came, slicing across her back so that she arched and twisted and cried out into the metal gag. It curled around her body, snapping and biting at her breasts and nipples and lower abdomen.

* * * *

She had almost the dildo inside her now, and ground her pussy against the sheets, letting her torso bend, pressing her breasts against the pillow as her arm slid down beneath her. Her fingers began to rapidly stroke across her clit as she kneaded her breasts again and rolled and ground her breasts across her arm.
She seized the base of the dildo and began to work it in and out, holding her fingers in such a way that her thumb stroked across her clit every time she pushed the dildo deep. Her hips rose and fell as she helped work herself down onto the dildo, and she gasped and moaned into the pillow, which pushed her chin up and back. Gasping and grunting, she drove the dildo in again and again and again until a strange gurgling began to emerge from her mouth.
Her eyes were closed as dark fantasies boiled through her mind, and she was gulping in air, but as the orgasm hit her hips began to buck much more violently, and she began to gasp loudly, issuing a serious of rapid, passionate, gasping grunts that sounded like a gurgle and turned into a long, drawn out moan that made her glad she was alone in the house and the only open window had a growling air conditioner in it.
She collapsed, gasping, then rolled onto her back, chest heaving. She reached down and slowly pulled the dildo out of her body, tossing it into the night table’s drawer. She was way too loud when she came. It would have embarrassed her to no end if any guy had heard it. Fortunately – so to speak – she’d never climaxed with a guy.
When she’d still been living at home, she had learned very quickly, however, to bury her face in pillow. And here, she’d learned to never masturbate with the windows open. She had no neighbors on two sides, and the neighbor behind her was almost a football field length away. The one next to her, however, was more than close enough that anyone laying awake with their windows open would have heard her gasping moans on the quiet night air if she’d had hers open.
Jude didn’t embarrass easily, but THAT certainly would have done it!

* * * *

Ryan groped her butt as she walked past, and she slapped irritably at him as he danced away, laughing.
“Asshole,” she muttered.
Her cousin Ryan was a perfect example of the male of the species. If any thought deeper than football, beer and sex had entered his mind in his entire nineteen years of existence it had never manifested itself in front of Jude. He was a swaggering, macho idiot who wasn’t likely to grow out of it for at least a decade, if then. Truth to tell there were more than enough male idiots who were well into their thirties, and even their forties.
The hunting and fishing shop was in what had been a small, red brick strip mall. Her uncle had put up a fake wooden front to make it seem folksy, and laid wooden floors across the tiles. It smelled woodsy, and even had a wood burning stove with comfy chairs around it to add to the atmosphere.
It was a busy place, in-season, especially with the city types picking up those last bits of equipment. One wall was all fishing stuff, lures, rods and reels, bait and tackle and gear. The other was hunting gear, including rifles and bows, knives and ammo, blinds and scopes and clothing. The center of the store was filled with camping and outfitting gear, tents, stoves, grilles oil and gas, blankets and folding chairs, coolers and insecticide, waterproof gear and boots and whatever else her uncle Frank thought might sell.
Jude, wearing her usual sneakers, black jeans and black t-shirt, made her way behind the counter and over to the work table in the rear, sitting down at the stool there. Things were not busy this time of year, and the store largely only saw a lot of traffic in the early morning, the early evening, and on weekends. Ryan and Jude took turns opening it up at five am for those early morning fishermen. This week was Ryan’s turn.
He wandered over to the counter, keeping it safely between them as he leaned over it.
“I’m fucking bored,” he said.
“What else is new,” she said, not looking up from the Winchester she was trying to repair.
She had a knack with mechanical things, had always been good at fixing them. That had grown into a real talent with repairing firearms that had inspired her uncle Frank to up her salary. Ryan had tried his hand at it but didn’t have the patience or the knack, and was irritated that she was paid more than he was despite it being his father’s store.
“You know, if you dressed in, like, a bikini, I bet we’d have more customers.”
Jude didn’t bother answering that.
“A thong bikini,” he said, leering.
“I bet you’ve got plenty of thongs you could wear,” she said, working a screwdriver into the edge of the spring which governed the trigger pull weight.
“I don’t fucking wear thongs,” he said. “You think I’m a fag?”
She shrugged. “Could be.”
“I’ll show you I’m not!”
“Thanks anyway. That’s not a matter of concern to me. I am your cousin, remember.”
“We could be kissing cousins,” he said with a smirk.
“You can kiss my ass, if it makes you feel better.”
“Sure! Any time!”
She made a face.
“This town sucks.”
“Well, you should like that, if you’re a fag.”
“I ain’t a fag, okay! Knock it off!”
“Just saying.”
“I can[‘t wait till I have some money and can move to the city.”
“And do what?’
“I don’t care! Anything’s better than this lousy, boring town.”
“Well, it’s pretty dirty. Maybe you can get a job sweeping the sidewalks.”
“I don’t – .”
The bell over the door rang and he straightened up and wandered off to look busy as a couple of customers came in and began looking over the fishing rods. They wound up buying some bait and after Ryan saw them out he wandered around back. By then she was standing behind the counter, looking through a parts catalog. He came up behind her and she sighed as his hands gripped the counter on either side of her. A moment later he began to grind himself gently against her ass.
“Ryan, you remember when I promised to warn you before it started to hurt,” she said, still not looking at him.
He pulled back quickly. He was a good foot taller than his cousin, but she had quick hands and feet, and there was no way for him to win anyway. If he ever actually used his full strength and punched her – not that he ever would - both his father and hers would kick his ass up and down Burgundy Street until he couldn’t walk for a month. That gave Jude a very unfair advantage which she didn’t hesitate to use by the quick application of a knee to the groin or an elbow to the ribs whenever he got too – close.
“Perve,” she said as he moved away.
“I’m bored,” he complained.
“Uh huh.”
Men were such infants. Young men anyway.
The bell rang again but she didn’t look up until a shadow fell on her. She looked up, then straightened as she felt an unusual hum inside her.
The guy was older, probably ten years older than her. He was handsome, with broad shoulders, but that didn’t usually do much for Jude. There was something else about him, a presence, a strength, a solidity she sensed, even before he spoke.
“Good morning,” he said, a small smile playing across his face. “Does this shop have a gunsmith by any chance?”
“Kind of,” she said. “You have a firearm problem?”
He gave her a doubtful look, then placed a Remington Model Forty Two Custom Sporter.
“Nice gun,” she said.
It was also a pricey gun, twice what their most expensive rifle went for.
“Not so nice lately. She’s misfiring.”
She picked it up and made sure it was empty. “Trigger?”
“No, nothing wrong with it.”
She removed the bolt assembly, then checked the trigger action.
“This something that just happened or has it been gradual?”
“Gradual but not slow, you know what I mean?”
She nodded and pulled the gun over to the work table.
“You a gunsmith?” he asked dubiously.
She grinned but didn’t answer. She pulled the firing pin with an expertise which had him raising an eyebrow, and held it under the magnifier.
“Thought so,” she said.
“What is it?”
“You got a titanium firing pin. You should have stuck with chrome. With a weapon like this, when you hit the primer you’re getting a blowback of hot gas. It’s kind of like a little blowtorch, really small but it’s there. It can burn a little hole in the tip of the firing pin.”
She turned the gun over in her hands.
“You handle that like you know what you’re doing,” he said.
She grinned cheekily at him. “I always know what I’m doing,” she replied in her lazy drawl. “With anything I handle.”
“That so. My name’s Callum Jennings.”
She nodded. “Jude.”
“Jude? Your parents Beatles lovers?”
“Yeah. And spare me. I’ve heard hey Jude all my life.”
“I’ll bet you have,” he said, grinning.
He nodded at the gun. “You have another firing pin?”
“Not that’ll fit this. We can send for another from Remington. How rich are you?”
He grinned confidently. “Rich enough.”
“We can overnight it, have it here early tomorrow morning.”
He nodded. “Do it. I’m staying at the Travelers Hotel up on – .”
“I know where it is,” she said.
“Of course you do.”
His eyes took her in but without that furtive kind of up and down she usually saw from men who wanted to scope out her tits. He grinned and nodded, then left. She whistled mentally behind him.
He had a nice butt, too.
Ryan’s hand slid under her arm and he pinched her nipple lightly.
“Your nipples all hard for that guy, Jude?” he taunted.
She drove an elbow into his ribs and he fell back with a yelp of pain.
“You’re supposed to warn me!” he said accusingly.
“Don’t need any warnings when you touch my tits,” she said, sweeping past him and going around to the window.
Callum got into a new model, upscale SUV.
“That guy is like ten years older than you,” he said from across the store.
“So? Did I say I wanted to marry him?”
He sniffed, rubbing his ribs. “Who the fuck would marry you. You’re such a little pain in the ass.”
“Never can tell,” she said softly.
She’d thought about dating older men, of course, but in this town that didn’t go over well. Besides, she really hadn’t found any older men she wanted to date. Most older men only wanted a young woman for one thing, and Jude usually didn’t think much of that sort of guy.
There was something about this Callum guy, though, something solid, but – dangerous, in a sexy sort of way. She bet he didn’t yell cat-calls at passing girls, or get drunk and throw up on the floor, or scream and yell over video game victories.


Very well written. Jude's degredation makes for great erotic reading.

5/5- nipples

Argus delivers another superior stroke book!




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