Interior Decoration

College Girl, First-time anal, Pretty pink perfection, foot play,

I ignored Mum as I grabbed an apple and headed straight for school. Late as usual. No time for a proper breakfast. 

Yeah, I caught her bit about the Interior Decorator/Painter starting this afternoon, but hey, I had more pressing things on my mind. 

Oh, it wasn't about missing the school bus: I had more important worries, like where my next screw was coming from. 

I hadn't had one in over a month since I'd dumped my cheating boyfriend.

Mmm, I was nearly desperate enough to call him up.

Now, that was a bad state for a girl, nearly as ghastly as attending an 'all ladies' private college.

The day only got worse as I copped swags of homework. So I reluctantly passed on my girlfriends, the mall, and potential guys and headed home with a nearly back-breaking school backpack. 

I had cheated and hadn't got out of my afternoon gym gear as required at school. I wore my tight pink T-shirt, shapely white shorts, short socks, and white gym shoes with pink laces.

Oh, I looked good with my blonde ponytail as I walked home. I didn't need the odd appreciative wolf whistle I got from passing cars to boost my self-esteem.

It was hot, though, and I finally trundled upstairs to dump my stuff and get to work.

Get changed first, I thought.

However, my cute, usually ordered bedroom looked molested. 

Fully abused. 

Deconstructed. 

What the fuck!

Everything was out of place.

Then I realised from the drop sheets and a tight-cheeked adorable arse attached to a long-handled roller doing my ceiling it was the Interior Decorator.

Mmm, I thought: he could splatter or decorate me with jizz anytime he liked.

He became aware of me as I was fully aware of him.

Hunky, tall, and a couple of day's facial growth and clearly under thirty.

He gave me the unsure: Wow, I hope you are eighteen look and took in my big breasts for my petite size. 

Then he composed himself.

Damn: I thought: just for a moment: is this how instantaneous insatiable sex occurs.

He professionally held himself in check. 

Double damn.

Yet he surprised me by saying, "Your mum said you'd be home…so choose a colour for the feature wall behind your bed—"

"Claire?" he said uncertainly.

Then he added, "It's Claire, isn't it? It's your choice. Select from that colour chart over there."

He pointed to my bedside table, which was currently nowhere near my bed.

"Oh yeah," I replied: "I don't need to look. I know I want pink." 

I was fully confident that pink was my favourite colour.

The feature wall behind my bed had to be pink: I knew this, and my parents knew this. 

All that remained was choosing the shade.

Pink like my fav sports T-shirt.

I said: "Pink, like this T-shirt," before I even looked at the colour chart.

"No," he said with sure authority, which perplexed me: "No, a softer pink."

"Okay," I said, picking up and spreading the colour chart. 

There was an extensive selection of pinks. 

Carnation, Watermelon, Strawberry, Calamine, and even one called Blush. Coral Buff looked eye-pleasing, Tissue Pink was cloying, and Bridal Pink—well, it was ridiculous — for a girl like me. 

I suppose they couldn't name paints: slut pink — pussy pink — silky ball sac pink: for what a tart like me was usually focused on.

I held the chart; he was behind me, very close.

He asked: "You're eighteen, I take it; you're old enough to make a real choice."

Well, you are a randy prick, I thought —and you know how to check a senior schoolgirl's age.

"Yes," I said, then added, "Which pink would you suggest for me?"

He said:" None of these."

He knew I was irritated with him, as I huffed.

But equally happy he occupied my space.

I developed the trembly flutters. I wanted him as close as fresh paint is to a wall.

I realised I was a girl, male hunk needy. He could gloss spit all over my skin.

"What then, smart-arse;" I got back as I let my eyes flirt and my butt pushed into his thigh.

"The pink I can't see," he said: —" Your nipples, I think, would be a perfect pink to blend up and apply for you tomorrow."

"Oh," I got out: because his hands were already on my tits, pressing my nipples to hardness through my T-shirt and sports bra.

Neither of us had tomorrow on our minds.

My hand nearly at the same time was on his groin, feeling his swelling.

The colour chart fluttered uselessly to the floor. It was time to check out human pink.

My racy pink top was off, my melon restrictive bra was off, and my nipples and tits were off on a journey of sensual exploration under his paint-splattered fingers.

Yeah, I looked down. 

The bugger was definitely right: my nipples were the right shade of pink for my room. 

What a memorable feature wall colour.

"Oh yeah, baby. I got that right. It's a great colour, great shape, and they fuckin' feel great, too."

One of his hands was quickly inside my sports shorts, pressing into my tight, fine white cotton panties. He was feeling me up indirectly, and it felt intense.

I like my pussy and what it does for me.

I know guys like my pussy, too, and what it does for their cocks.

"Mmm, that's super nice. Mmm, you have me wet. Mmm, mmm, mmm!"

I wanted dick: I needed dick.

I unhooked his paint-flecked blue overalls and flopped them down. I pulled off his navy T-shirt over his head. His dark briefs I dropped to release his straining throbbing cock.

Wow, talk about pink moments. 

His cock head was a gorgeous pink, and so were his hanging silky balls. Private parts, eye drawing with a pink surfeit.

I had to take his stiff pink head in my mouth—pink tip to pink lips and a pink tongue.

Yeah, I was overloaded with cock in my gob and filthy cock sucking coursing through my whorish brain.

I had missed giving a head job over the past few weeks and was enjoying sucking him off.

He had the groans of appreciation, "Orrgh, that's a good baby. Suck it deep!"

I realised as I lapped his balls I didn't even know his name.

His knob was drool lacquered and glazed.

He wanted to lick me out. Of course, I let him. 

I was lying back on the drop sheet covering my bed. My legs open; my other pinkness defined within my crinkled, crumpled, puffy lips, pouting male-ready. My clit, erect like a hard pink jellybean, made for self and male delight.

He teased the flesh spread between my legs. He came up only once for breath and said," You have a delicious pink candy cave." 

His tongue went on a frenzy — flick licking, fast and direct, on my clit, till we both knew I had to be cock filled.

"Ooh, ooh, that's the way to treat girly candy! Ooh, yes, ooh, yes, perrrfect!"

As he tongued and licked me out, my mind filled with the want, the want: the want for sex.

He was a cunning bastard, though, and made me wait. 

Easing off my gym shoes and short white socks and sucking my pink toes. I was caught by surprise, but oh, he loved my toes and my feet. 

"Ugh, now that's a curveball! But, ahh, ahh, so good!"

God, my toes were sensitive to his touch. His fingers massaged my feet, then rubbed my soles along his face's stubble. 

It was divine. 

"Ahh, mmm, aah, mmm!"

His fingertips kept running right up my legs, making me tremble. He was kissing my feet, held up together. Then sensually licking between my toes.

Next, the prick was sucking my little pinkies, one by delicate one. My tootsies were in oral heaven.

As he focussed on my right big toe, with a slow generous sucky motion, I probably came as close as a girl ever could to understanding what a blowjob feels like for a guy. 

"Ughh, ughh, ooohh!"

Hell, it was sexy.

He was under me on my bed. He wanted me to ride his stunning, thick shaft.

I was facing away from him.

Oh, the bastard; he wanted to see his cock pummelling into me and my grinding down and pussy arching away: in my huge bedroom mirror, angled across the room from us.

I could see my cute girly flaps were expanded and slapping against his big cock as I rose and fell back on his dick.

God, I looked amazing.

I had never seen myself have sex before, and it was kinky and wonderful and exciting. I knew I would orgasm hard.

"Ugh, ugh, ugh," I moaned with a rising tempo.

He turned me over. I was still above him, but he had the pace now. Using his hands on my butt to control my body's upwards and downward gyrations on his wooden stiffy. 

God, he was hard and deep. 

My tits were bouncing all over the place.

It was an intoxicating mutual delight. I could have let him control my sexual direction for hours. His schlong was frickin first-rate.

He was a strong dude, though, and I'm petite despite my big tits. He had me up, instructing me to put my hands around his neck and my legs locked around his waist, and his arms were under my thighs, and he stabbed his cock straight into my pussy — deep.

"Oh fuck; "I said and went moany happy.

"Ughh, ughh, ugghhh!"

He jabbed and thrust into me, over and over. 

I held on for dear life as my pussy was treated to speed cock; fast, rapid and fantastic sex. 

A powerful feeding of my womanly need for a guy to be inside of me. I was in pursuit of my consuming want for orgasmic release.

Oh, Sweet Jesus, it was intense. 

And then he held me with one arm and started rubbing my pucker hole with his other hand's fingers, and then he inserted a finger in my butt hole.

He was so virile. God, he had stamina.

In my youthful exuberance, I thought it was over. He would cream my pussy. I was ready.

I don't know how I held on. It was sensational.

My butt, my virgin butthole, giving me as much pleasure as my pussy.

His finger twisting and crooking into me. I instantly, dirtily wanted anal sex, though I had never had it, and college guys obsessed with banging pussy didn't last for anal seconds.

Suddenly, he had me on the bed, doggy. I loved doggy. 

What a finish. I thought the arse play was over. I was a little deflated. But I remained ready to climax in a hurry.

I hit the adorable body point of true intimate sexual exposure.

His tongue was in my crack. I didn't know how my arse could love a tongue or desire touch so much. So pleasure sensitive. So demanding of contact. 

"Ooh, fuck me! Yeah, oh, yeah, ooh, that is good! So good! Ooh, ooh!"

My arsehole, my arsehole, I loved my arsehole. 

He was petting my tight crack.

My arse was there: there it was, and it dominated me: the need, the need, the need, at the moment, to have cock in my arse.

I didn't know a tongue could adore or abide an arsehole like he was licking, and at the same time, his thumb was digging into my pussy, and other fingers of his were massaging my pubic mound and pushing into my clithood.

I knew the expressions of shared sexual appetites were a broad canvas of desire. Still, I was genuinely addicted and focused on my arse. 

I was stripped back to my unknown sexual core as he; dug one, then a second finger in my butthole and spread my arsehole wide.

"Lovely, pink, and tender; cherry ripe, I suspect," said the prick.

I couldn't see my spread butt — but took his word for it.

I knew his cock was coming. I was anticipating it. I could have anticipated as much as I wanted. 

Thinking it would be like his fingers, but the squeezing, jamming pressure of his inching-in cock; caught me in gasping waves of intense pleasure, mixed with a skin stretching that was mind-blowingly forceful.

"Orrgh, ooh, raah, ooh! Oof, oof, ooh!"

How his cock found space in my butt, I don't know; but it did.

Then, I hit the greedy instance of absolute flesh-indulgent enjoyment. My arse received pleasure instantly in swathes of cock pressing.

Equally, the pleasure I knew was somehow transferred directly from my tightness to his male groan-filled satisfaction.

He held my hips tight and jabbed fully into me. My arse was in a state of bliss. I was friggin my clit at the same time.

Our raw passion exploded from us simultaneously like pellets from a paint gun. I felt his cock jolt in me, and I embraced it happily, my tingly climax as it raced through my entire body.

As he eased out of my bum, I caught a glimpse of myself in my mirror. I saw my pink pucker hole oozing cream; it was so cute, the perfect girly interior decoration.

The painter was Max, and he was back tomorrow. For the next few days, he painted the whole house. I looked after him while my mum and dad were away at work. 

Boy, did I get behind with my homework!

Max told me to call the paint in my room — Charm Pink — for my parents.

However, secretly, I knew it was tinted to match, in the end: not my pretty babe pink nipples or my stunning champagne pink pussy lips but my secret tight pink rilled crack —which got regular interior decorations of jizz over the following afternoons.