Introducing Vic

Vic B. A most unlikely name, almost certainly a nomme de net. She showed up on Pinkboard looking for cock, a female misfit on a gay guys' site. I loved her the minute I saw her ad, and hit the Reply button.

She had a definite scenario in mind. I would see her across the room at her favourite watering hole, and become obsessed without her knowledge. When she left I would follow her and watch her enter her quarters, a room attached to a medical research facility. After giving her time to settle I would peep through a door left ajar. Spot her working at a desk. Ease the door open and approach her waiting back. Take her.

Almost all went according to plan. Nervously parking the Ducati across the street I took up my viewing position, identified her from her description. Long blonde hair. An astonishing amount of metal embedded in her face. And a startling schoolgirl ensemble, pigtails and a tartan skirt. Which soon I was to see swinging down the street ahead of me.

I followed with caution. This part of town famous for schemes to part fools from their time and money. Sure enough, she entered an august establishment. Sure enough, a door which should have been securely locked was ajar. Enough to see that she was continuing with the scenario. Without an accomplice.

I entered the room as planned. She remained, bent over her PC. I approached. There was the tiniest flicker to indicate that she was aware. I touched her shoulder and she stood, facing away from me. Allowing me to confirm that in true Scots fashion there was nothing under the tartan.

My instructions were, to hasten. I eased my trousers off as smoothly and silently as possible - no easy task - unleashing a throbbing cock. A tiny tilt of her head indicated lube and condoms on the next desk. I pressed myself against her firm little rump, running my hands over the front of her body. And the metal embedded there. Tiny rings in her nipples, 5 or 6 below. And as I slid the tartan up in the semidarkness, the tail end of a quite beautiful tattoo on her lower back.

I rubbered and lubed as indicated, and entered her swiftly, also part of the plan. Her body was lean and tight, like a dancer or athlete. Her cunt lean too; a cunt well used but not by men. As I pushed against her, her nates, also lean and muscular, were a perfect fit between my hip bones.

Unexpectedly - for there had been total silence until now - she started to talk. Not the faked moan of a porn star. Not the sweet words of a lover, or the lusty tones of a woman in heat. But vitriol. A tongue lashing for my cock. Too small, too soft. Well supplied with accolades from other lovers, I knew she was lying. And yet, a remarkable thing happened. My cock, erect for the previous hour and always reliable, shrivelled. I slunk into the night. Leaving her rampant at her desk.