Burning Bridges, Part One

Burning Bridges, Part One

By Cassidy

With Reese Witherspoon (FSolo, mast, fist, scat, ws)

DISCLAIMER: You know the rigmarole the events in this story are fictional and based in fantasy, they in no way represent the person in question. If you are offended by sexually charged material or are underage, STAY AWAY FROM THE STORY!! Like the story? Other comments? Requests? Then tell me so at megaherzman@yahoo.com.

Above the money, all the fame, all the glamour and glitz, Reese Witherspoon prized one thing the most: her normal life. What little privacy and comfort it provided
was much more essential to her than an important role or an award. It was for this very reason that she had moved her family to her old hometown of Nashville. Although born in New Orleans, it was the passive Tennessee lifestyle that had been her upbringing for the majority of her youth and it was there that she felt most at home. Life was a lot calmer there and, besides the quality it would bring into her children’s life, she knew that it would be the only way she could relax.

Ryan, her husband of god knows how many years, was not one to relax in the down home settings, however. Although the two had their fair amount of troubles to talk about in the past, Reese has always made it a point to make her family life work but as the time passed it seemed that Ryan’s intents were otherwise inclined. His career was suffering from what seemed, to him at least, like one very long slump and his mind would all too often wander to getting it back on track. Reese, ever the loyalist to her family bonds, understood his desire to heighten his status in the Hollywood scene but failed to comprehend how it could take precedence over the health of his kids and, of course, her own needs.

She was attentive enough to him, she knew that. Despite being the main bread winner in the family she let him have the dominant role in the majority of the decision making and never tried to overstep her boundaries as a wife. That was, after all, the way she was raised. Irregardless of all the love and fealty she directed at him he was just increasingly irate at her and the fights and bickering had become more and more consistent.

Lately, in fact, it seemed that the only thing that could calm him down was when she would tide over the storm of indifference with a form of seduction or another. She had learned with Ryan that the best way to a man’s heart was through his pants not his stomach. It was this, much to her dismay, which was causing her the most mental agony. Had she resorted to this because she was not capable of handling her marriage or was she trying to hold onto something that was futile to attempt to save with cheap bedroom tactics? She didn’t really know but what she did know was that she was no longer happy pleasing him intimately if the rest of the relationship was in tatters. So it was for the last two weeks she had stopped even those vain attempts at trying to calm his fleeting anger with the warmth between her legs. He had initially been angry but he now seemed to care very little about it at all, as he did with most things.

Reese sighed, as she contemplated all the events of the last year. How funny the way things just piled up on top of each other and made bigger problems out of small nothings. Ryan had left this morning to meet with his agent in New York for what he had promised to be a good chance at a prize audition and here she was all alone. With the kids off to school and a humongous lakeside mansion all to herself Reese was beginning to fall prey to her loneliness and thoughts.

She looked around her bedroom, as she sat up in her bed, and remembered the good times, which now seemed so far gone, she remembered their wedding night. How he had slowly undressed her and lovingly applied his caress onto her nubile body. She had saved herself for him and now he refused to save her from herself. Still she loved him and the stream of thoughts running through her mind had begun to have their effect on her. She felt the comfortable and familiar tingle deep in the recesses of her increasingly moist womanhood and snaked a hand over the very short silk teddy that sheathed her curvy body.

She relished the feeling of her hand rubbing the expensive garment over her tummy and the coldness of her fingertips as they touched the topmost flesh of her thigh as it lay exposed by the barely-there hemline of the miniscule slip. She brought her hand, ever so slowly, up to the bare folds of her dripping cunt. Cunt, the only thing she could call her pussy in this aroused state. Unable to sustain the fervor of her lust she slid her fingers brusquely up the slippery track of her pussy and over her clit and pressed vigorously, not quite yet able to bring herself to rub it. Instead she began to knead at her breast with her other hand, first slowly then in utter desperation but always keeping pressure on her sore clit. She pulled harshly at the teddy, tearing one strap and exposing her breast. She grunted with glee at the feeling of the cloth giving way to her flesh and pinched her nipple between her thumb and forefinger the very action making her arch her back against the backboard of her bed. She rolled it in between the two digits and then, abruptly tugged at it pulling her small breast as far as it would go. She let the nipple go and smiled as she felt the breast bounce lightly back into place.

She continued her assault on her breast, slapping it hard the pain seemingly making her nipple get harder and harder by the second but even then her mind wandered to the new ministrations below. Her other hand was now rubbing at her clit and she could feel her pussy was as slick as oil. The heat coming from between her hairless lips was too much of a temptation to ignore and so she slipped in a finger, her body shuddered in reception of its intrusion but it was not to be sated. Knowing this and not even giving it a second thought she slipped in a second finger. Better, she though, much better.

She slid down a bit, using the pillows to prop her body up and give her a good view of herself in her dresser mirror that stood directly in front of her bed, and spread her legs as wide as she could and as far up in the air as was comfortable. She smiled; the sight of her own oozing cunt was definitely worth that much. She slid out the fingers and brought them up to her mouth, licking off her own juices, making a show out of it in the reflection. Assured that every last drop of her sweet moisture was gone she brought her hand down again and using her two middle fingers gave her clit a quick rub before interring those very digits deep into her pussy and beginning to furiously pound them in and out.

She was wet, very wet, and the frothy, sloshing sounds coming from her unmerciful attack on her cunt were only proof of that. Up and down, up and down she rammed her fingers into her slick vagina, her mischievous grin getting larger by the second as she watched the two fingers vanish into her crevice, leaving the other three sticking out. Stopping her, up to this point, incessant breast abuse she slid her other hand under herself and between her butt cheeks. This had become her favorite part of the ritual these past two weeks. Never before this had she even fancied the thought, but now she couldn’t do without it. As fluidly as one takes a breath Reese slipped in two fingers into her asshole. She could feel the buildup of the previous days’ waste in there but instead of the expected disgust this only served to arouse her even more.

Now, with both holes filled to the brim she began to fervently pump her fingers in and out once again, the resultant squealing and grunting only serving to feed her rampant imagination. Quickly, in a seamless twist of lust, she extracted the fingers from her ass and brought them up to her mouth. She stopped and looked at them, her eyes widened, first with disgust then with aching desire. The two fingers were coated in shit, the pungent stench of it wafted up her nose and she found it not as offensive as her initial impression might have suggested. Cautiously she brought the fingers up to her mouth, as she steadied the pace of those in her pussy, and then without wasting a time to dredge up second thoughts she smeared the shit on her lips. Her tongue lapped out and in between the filth and willingly cleaned the fingers. She swallowed hard, the bitter taste of her own waste streaming down her throat.

She shot a glance up at the mirror and saw herself and knew that was the end of the road. A smile crept onto her face as she saw the mess she’d made of it, the sight itself was so wrong that it only made her burn with the need to finish herself off and soon. With professional speed she brought the fingers in her pussy out and then joined the others next to them bringing her entire hand down into her sopping wet hole. She pounded as violently as she could while her other, shit-stained hand rubbed incessantly at her clit. She felt the rush of blood and the light headed notion of the impending orgasm rack her body.

“Oh god, yes!! YES!! YESS!” A gusher of cum shot from her vagina, drenching her legs and feet and making her body weaken. The torrent of girl cum seemed endless, every spasm bringing forth a rush of the clear liquid, making her legs gleam with the fluid. As a second tremor of ecstasy ran through her, her debilitated body was unable to contain a stream of hot piss that poured out onto the covers. She giggled as the warm urine delineated the shape of her body on the sheets. Her breathing was still heavy and her body, it seemed to her, was beyond the point of reason but she still managed one more glance at herself in the mirror and smiled again. What a filthy slut, she though to herself. For the first time she thought that after all that happened, why the hell did she need Ryan to feel good? It was time to burn some bridges.

To be continued…

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