Loading...The man interviewing me was a good looking man. Not a gorgeous man, but a good looking man. His musculature showed he worked out, but still he carried about ten pounds more than his ideal weight. Brown hair, a couple of inches shy of six feet, good nose, thin lips. He did have beautiful blue eyes.
I had just finished my sophomore year in college and was looking for a job. The yogurt shop where I’d worked the previous summer had invited me back, but I was looking for something different, especially in the way of avoiding a balding overweight boss who, when he wasn’t pawing me, was leering at me. My Mom, who worked in the clerk of court’s office, heard that the filing clerk for Richard & Richard, a local husband and wife law firm, had left and mentioned me to Ron Richard. I was in his office being interviewed.
His office was a mess. The paperless revolution had not made it to this guy; books, papers, and files were piled everywhere. His furniture and decorations seemed as if selected at random. His clothes matched his office. His tie and a couple of buttons on his shirt were undone and it had been several hours since he’d checked his hair. He did, however, have an “aw shucks” kind of charm and, according to Mom, was great in front of a jury; jurors instantly identified with him. Big city lawyers in their three thousand dollar suits and matching trial bags had, Mom said, often left the courtroom on the short end of million dollar verdicts wondering what had just happened.
I figured if I interviewed only with him, I had the job. My name is Amber Church. At the time I was nineteen years old, attended a throughly mediocre local college, and was considered a party girl. It was true; I liked to party, hit the bars, tease the boys. Guts loved to buy me drinks, dinner, or most anything else I wanted; I was a shameless and talented flirt. My looks didn’t hurt. My Cajun ancestry had left me a dark complexion, brown, almost black, hair that cascaded in long elegant waves past my shoulder blades and although no gym rat, I had a great figure and inherited my Mom’s ample chest. I liked wearing short skirts or slit dresses to show off my legs. Don’t get me wrong, I was no slut. I’d been with far fewer men than most people supposed.
However, while I was pulling my flirt on Ron, he didn’t seem to be buying into it. It was more like he was watching me, evaluating my technique. I kept plowing ahead, I didn’t have a Plan B. If guys were not buying my looks and personality, I wasn’t sure what else I had to sell.
Our interview was interrupted by a knock on the door. A woman entered. Ron’s face lit up. Completely focused on her, he popped up from his chair, took her hand in his, and kissed her on the cheek.
“This is Michelle, my wife and the brains of the operation.”
Fuck, no wonder he wasn’t buying my act, she was fricking gorgeous. My mother had said she was pretty, but Mom was being catty; Michelle left pretty in the dust a county or two back. Michelle was, I would learn, seven years younger than her thirty-three year old husband. She was five feet five inches tall with long straight blond hair. She had a round face with pronounced cheek bones, large emerald eyes, and a wide mouth which featured a set of thick luscious lips.
She was wearing a gray Armani taffeta pencil skirt and a matching melange jacket that accented her curvy figure. She walked, almost glided, across the room. Her perfume was a light floral, sexy but appropriate for the office. After I stood to shake her hand she sat down next to me. She brushed her hair back with her small hand, which featured perfectly manicured nails bearing deep red nail polish, and looked me in the eye, capturing my attention. Her skin was a pale white and her make-up, except for bright red lipstick, understated. My eyes were drawn to her full lips. She smiled at me, flashing a perfect set of teeth, and crossed her legs.
“It’s good to meet you,” she said. There was a hint of a Southern accent in her soft spoken voice. I leaned forward to ensure I heard every word.
She was direct, to the point. Each word was enunciated precisely. “Much of what we would ask you to do is boring, but it must be done right. A piece of evidence filed in the wrong file may never be found again. If you mistakenly stuff a letter intended for a client into an envelope addressed to an opposing lawyer, we could lose a case. If we miss a hearing date because you did not correctly calender it, we commit malpractice. More than anything else this job requires someone with the right personality, someone whose focus is on doing the job, no matter what job, right.”
She wasn’t describing me. I was a good time girl. Yet, I wanted to impress this woman.
She saw my hesitation.
“You have doubts?”
“Yes,” I confessed, wondering why I was admitting that in a job interview.
“Why don’t we get to know each other better. Ron is cooking out tomorrow. Can you drop by for lunch, around 1:00.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“Good.” She handed me a card. “Send a text to this number. I’ll forward the address.”
She stood up and kissed my cheek with her full sexy lips, her hand on my shoulder. My stomach fluttered. “I look forward to talking with you further. Ron will tell you more about the job.”
She turned to her husband. “I made 6:30 reservations at Cochon’s,” an award-winning restaurant in the city. “We’ll need to close early today. I’ll let Denise know.”
She left the room. I watched. She had a great ass.
* * * *
I lived with two girls. Dana’s gorgeous, a blonde whom everyone notices when she walks into a room. Kathy is sweet and pretty, but has a little trouble keeping off the weight. The three of us and Jenny, who was living with her boyfriend of the moment, went to high school together. We were BFFs. There used to be five of us. Then Corrine slept with my boyfriend.
Dana, Kathy, and I hit the college bars that night. I told them about my job interview. Somehow, however, it felt like a private experience and I didn’t, as I normally would, share everything. I didn’t describe how striking Mrs. Richard was or tell them about tomorrow’s lunch or of the generous hourly wage Ron had mentioned.
It was a typical Friday night. I flirted with guys, they flirted back and bought me beers. I wasn’t really into it, which meant I drank more than I should. I thought about Mrs. Richard in a place like this. It seemed unworthy of her. At some point Dana left with a guy I barely remembered. It was about two in the morning when Kathy poured my alcohol-soaked body into bed.
I opened my eyes to 11:30 on the alarm clock. Shit, I had to be at the Richards in ninety minutes. I stumbled to the kitchen, gulped down some stinky coffee Kathy had made who knows when, and crawled into the shower. My head hurt; I was some hung over. As I tried to wash the feeling away, I silently thanked the landlord for the large hot water heater. I considered straightening my hair for a more mature look, but realized that I didn’t have the time. I chose my best pair of blue jeans, a matching pink silk shirt, and some wedge sandals. While putting on my make-up I noticed my blood shot eyes, I grabbed the Visine.
The Richards lived north of town on a semi-rural road known for its ostentatious homes. Theirs was not visible from the road. I was only five minutes late when I started down a long driveway through a wooded lot. When I arrived I was struck by the home’s elegance. Smaller than most on the road, it featured high ceilings, large windows, and plenty of outdoor living space. When I got out of the car I heard Mrs. Richard’s call, “Amber, over here.” She was sitting on a side deck built around the trunk of a large oak, which shaded half the house.
My impression of the previous day was right on; this was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. She wore a designer oversized tee shirt whose sheer fabric revealed a Helmut Lang asymmetric bra, black leggings, and black leather platform ankle boots. Her hair was pulled back in a french twist. She met me at the edge of the deck and kissed me on the cheek.
“How was the opera, Mrs. Richard?”
“Good, not great. The company is not world class, but I always love the evening out. And please, call me Michelle. Why don’t we sit down.”
She guided me to some outdoor furniture. Crackers, pate, and Evian bottled water were waiting on an antique silver tray. “Unfortunately my husband’s at the office dealing with an emergency. I’m afraid our cook-out will be delayed.”
We had chatted for only a few minutes when Michelle asked, “Too much to drink last night?”
“Yeah, I mean yes. Is it that obvious?”
“No, not really. You are moving gingerly and Visine is not a 100% fix. I also noticed the direct sunlight was bothering you and you wouldn’t touch the pate but loved the water. Let’s move inside.”
She picked up the tray and we headed towards the house, entering a large living room. It was elegant and livable, full of beautiful, but comfortable, furniture and art work.
I sat down. Michelle, her face sympathetic, said, “My family has a secret hangover cure. I’ll whip one up for you.”
While she was gone I wandered the room, looking at the art. Michelle returned with a glass full of a brown liquid. I noticed she had replaced the previous day’s bright red nails with a French manicure. The concoction smelled surprisingly good and, while short of delicious, was fully palatable. As Michelle had promised it was effective; I soon found myself feeling better.
Embarrassed that I had appeared hung over for an interview with this perfect woman in this perfect house, I began an explanation.
“I and two girlfriends went to a nightclub last night. I really wasn’t enjoying myself all that much, but guys kept sending me drinks. I should have stopped sooner.”
Michelle leaned forward, leaving me some dignity, “I remember those days. I let it happen more than I should.” Her perfume, which I could smell now that we were indoors, was fresh and sweet. “Flirting for beers I called it.”
She had me nailed, “Yeah, something like that.” I imagined Michelle in the bar. She wouldn’t be accepting beers, she’d have the boys outside washing her car. Sitting next to her not a guy would notice me.
Our conversation quickly turned to less embarrassing topics. Michelle was smart and funny, attentive, witty and warm. I enjoyed her company; it didn’t feel like an interview. Unfortunately, I also started noticing something else. While struck by Michelle’s beauty on Friday, I had not paid particular attention to her breasts. The suit she had worn emphasized her curves, not her chest.
What she wore today flattered her bosom or, more accurately, her bosom flattered what she wore today. Her breasts were not only large, but perfectly shaped, round and full. I kept glancing at them; somehow I’d become one of the horn dog guys who couldn’t keep their eyes off my chest. I wanted to stop, but my eyes kept drifting down. Shit, I thought to myself, I’m the worst interviewee in human history. I show up hung over and now I’m ogling my prospective employer. I hoped Michelle didn’t notice, but Michelle seemed to notice anything.
She soon made it clear that she had. “You like my breasts, don’t you?”
“Uh, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.”
“It’s a straightforward question, please answer it.”
“Yes, yes, I mean they’re beautiful.”
She raised her arms and stretched. Her chest moved up and out. “I spend a lot of time in the gym and practicing yoga. It helps.” My tear shaped boobs, which I had always thought one of my better features, seemed inadequate.
Then she said something wholly unexpected. “Think about it, do you want to kiss them?”
I don’t believe I had consciously entertained the thought, but suddenly my mouth was watering. The answer was yes, desperately yes. I looked into her eyes, did she really want me to say it? There was no doubt there, she was serious.
“Yes.”
Almost nonchalantly – how often did this happen to her? – she removed her tee shirt and bra, laying them across the chair behind her. Her small pink areolas surrounded pert rosy nipples. I licked my lips, my sight and being focused on her breasts. I wanted to plunge myself in her arms, but found I couldn’t move.
“Come to Mama, baby.”
With that I sprang across the space between us, slightly catching my foot in the throw rug. I fell forward next to her.
“Amber, child, you never want to be desperate and, if you are, you never want to show it.”
She took my head in her hands, directing it to her breast. I latched my mouth to her areola, pressing my face into the firm flesh. I frantically licked her nipple. With my face pressed to her breast I imagined the contrast between my dark skin and the milky whiteness of hers.
After several minutes she, softly and gently, pulled my face from her breast and brought her lips to mine. Her tongue patiently explored my mouth, sensual, but also calming. My racing heartbeat slowed.
“Remember, woman like us are always in control.”
She cupped her breast, again offering it to me. I took the nipple into my mouth and dragged my tongue across it. She shuddered. I worked the nipple and areola with my lips, sucked them into my mouth, then released them and ran my lips across their firm sensual perfection, licking them with strong firm strokes. She ran her fingers into my hair, sending chills through me. She purred; her breathing deepened.
“That’s a good girl. Make sweet love to my breast. It feels so good, you make her feel so good. Now the other one.”
I leaned across her body and fastened onto her other equally gorgeous breast, latching onto her nipple and giving it the same treatment. Michelle cooed in delight. The thought that I was arousing her sent my libido into overdrive. I took both breasts in my hands, pushing them together and taking turns licking and kissing the nipples.
“You like Mommy’s breasts, don’t you baby.”
“They’re, you’re, so beautiful.”
I ducked back down to her nipples, but Michelle interrupted me.
“Baby, there’s more to a breast than a nipple.”
She was right, I had yet to celebrate their large round perfection. I ran my hands over them, enjoying their heft, weight, and shape, but couldn’t long resist the desire to have them in my mouth. I angled up her left breast, kissed it, and dragged my tongue along its bottom on a slow meandering trip to her nipple, which I licked with the flat of my tongue. Michelle shuddered. I was making her feel good! I gave her other breast the same treatment.
Her hand buried in my thick hair, she again angled me upwards and brought my face to hers. I had never experienced anything like the full sensuous softness of her lips. She captured my lower lip with her lips, caressed it, and then directed my head back to her breasts which I covered with kisses and nibbles.
“Time to get up, baby.”
I stood on shaky legs. She, with graceful elegance, did the same. I followed her down a wide hallway to a short staircase. At the top was a door through which we entered a large feminine bedroom. One wall was composed of floor to ceiling windows facing the forest behind the house. The spacious bed featured a silk, off-white, bedspread and plenty of pillows. The wall behind it was made of brick. Track lighting accented a painting above the head board.
“Amber, take off your clothes.”
I started hurriedly unbuttoning my shirt when Michelle stopped me.
“Amber, as I told you, you never want to be desperate or frantic. You must always be in control. Now take off your clothes, but take your time. Let me know your body is worth waiting for. Fold your clothes and put them on the table behind you.” Her eyes directed me to an antique white dressing table. “Imagine you are performing for the world.”
As I took her advice I felt myself calm down. When naked I turned to face her.
“You are a lovely girl. Have you tried yoga?”
“Once, but I didn’t like it.”
“You must meet my instructor, she’s a dream. Now come girl, undress me.”
My first impulse was to sprint across the room, but I remembered her caution. Instead I strolled to her and knelt, removed her shoes, leggings, and underwear, and placed them on the dressing table. When I turned back around she had let her hair down. She pushed some pillows to the side and lay on the bed.
“Come to mama, baby.”
I crossed the room, suppressing the urge to run. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, fixated by her beauty. Her bush was neat and trimmed but not shaven, her skin silky, her body toned and fit. She knew she was beautiful.
Michelle spread her legs and touched her pubic hairs. “Bring mama off, baby.”
* * * *
I guess its time to say something about my sexuality. I and my three BFFs, and one former BFF, had done some fooling around. While teenagers, on a dare, Dana and I made out. The other girls, feeling left out, joined in. We all had to admit we kind of liked it and over the years, on occasion, when bored or drunk, we’d do it again. There had been a lot of sleep-overs; we were comfortable seeing each other naked and exploring each others’ bodies, determining such important teenage-girl issues as who had the firmest boobs, the hardest butt, and the prettiest pussy. However, while we talked about it, and even selected the girl we’d most like to do it with, none of us had taken the step into full-scale lesbian sex. That barrier was about to fall.
* * * *
I got on the bed and studied her pussy. The scent of her arousal, although subtle, was clear. Her pubes were moist and vaginal lips and clitoris swollen. Her clitoris, in my limited experience, seemed huge. I kissed and then buried my face in her sex; the smell and warmth of her flow was intoxicating. How could I do justice to such a magnificent pussy? I looked at her.
“I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure how.”
“Amber, you have so much to learn. Never acknowledge you don’t know what you’re doing. Most people don’t have any idea what they’re doing. If you act like you do, people will believe you do. Focus on my sweet vagina and her lips. You’ll get it.”
I took a deep breath. Her pussy was a perfume, palpable, thick and overpowering. I imagined it drawing me in, absorbing me, making me part of her. I licked the face of her vagina at first. I was tentative and gentle, but as Michelle shivered in response my confidence grew and I picked up the pace. Her flow was thick and copious. I thought about what I liked best when guys ate me. I stabbed my tongue into her as deep and aggressively as I could. Her pussy winked open and shut; her hips started undulating.
I thought of the spot which guys, with their obsession with cunts, too often forgot, the love bud; would hers, which seemed so big, be sensitive? I licked the length of her labia and when I reached her clit, wondered how much force to apply. I started carefully, tickling it with the tip of my tongue. Michelle’s gasp revealed that I was on the right track. I experimented with a host of different techniques, licking it hard, then soft, caressing it between my lips, sucking it into my mouth and lashing it with my tongue, staying attuned to her reactions. The more aggressive, the more forceful I became, the more she liked it. I attacked her sex.
Michelle slipped her strong fingers into my thick hair. “Sweet baby, you’re a natural, eat Mommy’s delicious pussy, you’re dong so well, that its sweet girl.” Her praise filled me with joy. My tongue was becoming numb, but I willed myself to continue, licking and sucking with devoted determination. I imagined a boxer working a speed bag, smacking her clit repeatedly with my tongue. And then her body tensed and she thrust her hips up; juice poured from her. Michelle didn’t scream and shout, but instead softly, almost in a whisper, purred. Her skin flushed and a placid look of ecstacy filled her face. I continued teasing her clit, although more gently, and then lazily, affectionately licked her pussy. Eventually, she drew me up to her, holding me to her full warm breast.
“Baby, that was so fine. You made Mommy feel so good.”
While at first I beamed with pride, this was quickly superceded my another feeling; I’d never been this aroused. While I had been eating Michele’s pussy the only thing that mattered was her pleasure. Now that I was done, I was on fire. The guys I’d been with had never put me in this state of need. Sure, I’d let some fuck me, but usually because it was expected: they had taken me on a nice date, we’d been seeing each other awhile, he was an okay looking dude. Now I knew what is was like when you needed to be fucked.
Michelle interrupted these thoughts when she said, “Hi honey,” and the bed moved. I looked and saw Ron framed between Michelle’s cleavage. His cock was about as long as the other ones I’d known, but much wider and in some way I can’t explain, seemed much harder. It featured a large brown head and enormous set of balls. He turned me onto my knees and entered me from behind.
As he did so he asked, “How’d she do?”
“You were right honey, she has potential.”
I wasn’t sure what that meant, but it still seemed the nicest thing anyone had ever said about me.
In comparison to what I had known and what I’d later learn, Ron was a master cocksman. I was sopping wet; there was no resistance to his entry. He took my hips in his hands, controlling my movements. Unlike the boys I’d been with before, who impatiently banged in and out with all the speed and strength as they could muster, he explored the inside of my cunt, varying his motions and angles of entry, controlling my movements so I received the maximum pleasure. The large head of his cock repeatedly dragged across my g-spot.
It was wonderful; I was awash in an array of sensations I didn’t know existed. My mind was filled with flashing lights; I lived in a sea of pleasure. He brought me to the edge of an orgasm, held me there, backed away, and did it again. He’d make me come and then slow down until I was ready to go again. Finally, when I’d started to think I was fucked-out, he picked up the pace, thrusting into me with long powerful strokes. How he knew this is what I needed for my final, ultimate orgasm, I don’t know, but I pushed back with the little strength left in my spent body. Until now my orgasms had been accompanied by guttural whimpering, but I had lost all control. When I felt his cum pour into me, I erupted.
“Ohhhhhhhh myyyyyyyyy fuckinnggggggggg goddddddddddddd!” I fell forward on the bed.
I’m not sure how long I slept. When I woke, my body still twinkling in delight, I was alone. There was music coming from an open doorway and I, naked, wandered in. It was a massive closet, Michelle would later explain that “dressing room” was the appropriate term. Michelle was sitting at a vanity, wearing a cute pink wrap, brushing her golden hair.
“I see you’ve returned to the land of the living.”
“I never knew it could be that good.”
“He is a magnificent lover, but you need to learn that girls like us don’t scream, we purr, we always maintain control.”
She studied my naked body and selected a silk robe, handing it to me.
“This looks just right, try it on.”
I looked at myself in one of the room’s full length mirrors. The robe was short; it showed off my legs and displayed a bit of cleavage. The silk felt sweet and sensual on my body; my nipples stiffened, their points were visible in the fabric.
“Ron is outside with the grill. After you freshen up, join us.”
Michelle left. I sat at her vanity, brushing my hair. I wasn’t sure what these people wanted, but whatever it was, I was all in.
* * * *
Ron was almost as good a cook as he was a lover; the meal was delightful. After cleaning up, we returned to the bedroom for an evening of sex. While it wasn’t unusual for one of us girls to spend the night out, I texted Kathy to let her know I was alright. I woke the next morning to see Ron, fully showered and nattily dressed, standing by the bed. Michelle was still sleeping.
“Today’s the district attorney’s golf tournament/fund raiser. I’m on the steering committee. I’ll be gone most of the day. There is fresh coffee in the kitchen.”
I got out of bed, stretched, and discovered I was a bit sore in the privates – Ron had fucked me twice more that night. With a cup of coffee I settled on the deck off the bedroom. Facing the thick woods behind the Richards’ home – Michelle had said the property ran several hundred yards back and ended at a river – I listened to the songs of birds and enjoyed the deep loamy scent that filled the air. There was perfect privacy here.
The door to the bedroom opened; Michelle stepped out. Except for the breakfast tray she was carrying, she was stark naked. I had spent the last twenty hours with her, most of them unclothed, but still I stopped breathing, overwhelmed by her beauty and grace. Her hair was wet. She must have jumped in the shower.
“Good morning,” she said. “Sleep well?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept more soundly.”
She set the tray on a small table. On it were coffee and a bowl of oatmeal topped with granola and fresh raspberries. “We eat healthy here, we’d like you too also.”
She picked up the oatmeal, scooped out a spoonful, and fed it to me. I clamped my lips down, making sure I captured each thick heavy morsel. She fed herself, then me again. Sitting there with her, naked, sharing the rich creamy meal, I felt a burn start twixt my legs. She picked up a raspberry, brought it to her perfect lips, and bit off half of it, dropping the other half in my open eager mouth.
Michelle read my condition perfectly. She fed me several more helpings of the rich succulent fruit and then ran one along my wet slit. Coated with my juice, she deposited it in her mouth. She took the final raspberry, ran it across her full pussy lips, and fed it to me. I was near panting in need.
Her voice tone was even and cool, “I’ve told you, never show your desperate. Now let’s go inside.”
I followed her. She left the sliding doors open, letting in the fresh air and sounds of the outdoors, and gestured for me to lay on the bed. Laying next to me, she kissed me. At first, as she had the day before, she let her thick heavy lips do the work, capturing my lower lip between hers, working it back and forth while her tongue ran along its edge. Her tongue then moved into my mouth, exploring along the back of my lips. Her long perfectly manicured nails ran along the side of my body, sending erotic shock waves through me. She kissed my eyes, my nose, my cheeks, and my chin, and returned to my mouth. It opened to welcome her.
Our tongues met. At first they gently, carefully, introduced each other. The tips touched, then pulled back, she stroked the top of my tongue, then the sides. I was crazy with need, my pussy was throbbing; I wanted to plunge my tongue deep into her mouth, to hurriedly explore every crevice, but I remembered her adage: never show you’re desperate. Something else also dawned on me: I wanted to be this woman.
I explored her body with my hands. Although not overtly muscular, she was firm. Her skin, like her lips, was soft. The combination of strength and softness excited me in a way I’d not known before. As I caressed her she emitted low gentle moans, encouraging me to continue. I wanted to bring pleasure to this lovely woman. Our lips and tongues continued to play with each other, but now with increasing urgency. Then she lifted herself up and glided over me, dragging her full breasts across my skin. That felt nice. She kissed my neck, my shoulders, sometimes gently, sometimes with a slight nip.
I started to squirm, but remembering how blithely Michelle had accepted the pleasure I had given her the day before, I relaxed and lay back, letting myself become awash in a sea of sensations, letting what she was doing flow through me. Michelle’s mouth moved to my breasts and, starting with the undersides, throughly covered them with kisses. She then began a series of slow long licks, staying away from my nipples, carefully gauging my reactions, playing me like an instrument.
“You have beautiful breasts. Do you like Mommy’s mouth on them?” she asked.
“Yes, Mommy.”
“What do you want Mommy to do next?”
My initial reaction was to say whatever Mommy wants. Michelle did not need my help making love to a woman. But then I decided no, like her I’d ask for exactly what I wanted.
“Michelle, my nipples, they’re on fire. Make love to them.”
“Of course, Amber.”
She rolled my left breast up to expose its underside, her thumb applying firm delicious pressure to the nipple, and began a slow indolent lick, moving up and around my breast with increasing pressure until she reached the nipple, on which her tongue lingered with enough force to press it into my flesh.
I wanted to scream, but instead let out a low moan of rapturous delight.
Michelle gave my other breast the same treatment, eliciting the same response. Michelle then took turns with my nipples, licking them, kissing them, sucking them into her mouth. I lay on the bed, absorbed in the presence of this masterful woman. I thought of the boys who had been my lovers, all wanting to be complemented on their performance, all quick to move on to the next thing, and, of course, all in a rush to get their rocks off. This was the way to be made love to, expertly, patiently, by a confident lover whose sole focus was pleasing me, knowing I’d do the same for her.
Now Michelle’s mouth was on my stomach, moving down in a combination of kisses and nibbles. Her hair flowed across my body. My cunt was on fire, dripping juice in anticipation of her mouth, but that’s not where she went. Instead her thumbs rubbed the soles of my feet – ooooh, that felt good – and her lips closed over a toe. She sucked it into her mouth, grazing her teeth along its underside. I had not imagined my toes as erogenous zones, but holy heck they were.
Then, she knew, I couldn’t wait any longer; I needed her mouth on my cunt.
Her mouth ajar, her perfect teeth showing, she snaked forward. My eyes were riveted on her, hers on my sex. Almost lazily, her jaw relaxed and her soft tongue slid out, following the contours of her lips before licking the entrance to my cunt, sometimes up and down, sometimes across. Her head moved up an inch to my labia, whose lips she pressed together with her fingers while her tongue slid between them. I fought the urge to scream and beg her to continue, calming my impulses, determined to relax, to wallow in the pleasure.
Michelle sensed my decision. She released my labia and looked me in the eye. God, she was beautiful. “That’s a good girl. Let Mama make you feel so good.”
Her head was now directly over my vagina. Her tongue slid inside me, then back out. She pushed it back in and circled it around, her movements slow and careful, maximizing the friction and pressure. My head back, my eyes shut, my being was centered on the spot between my legs. Then, just as it felt like I could no longer survive the intensity of what she was doing, her fingers stretched the skin above my clitoris. I opened my eyes. Her tongue was curled to a point, she flicked the tip of my clit.
My god, I’d had been introduced to this woman’s bed less than twenty-four hours ago but she understood my body better then any man I’d known. Hell, she understood it better than I did. I arched my back and raised my hips, letting out a low moan. “You make me feel so good.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
Michelle continued exploring my sex, but always returned to my clitoris. I was soaking wet; my body trembled. Under a lesser musician I’d have already exploded, but Michelle was a virtuoso, moving me to the edge of orgasm, but stopping a few notes short.
I opened my eyes when Michelle’s head lifted from my privates. She smiled, moved up the bed on all fours, her heavy breasts swinging under her body, and let her face drift down to mine. We kissed. My juices were on her tongue, her breasts pressed against mine.
“Would you like to learn to be like me?” she asked.
She knew the answer. “More than anything.”
“Good. Ron and I will teach you.”
She returned to my sex, using her thumb to pull back the hood protecting my clitoris, exposing the nub. She gave it a quick suck, pulling it into her mouth and then let go. I fought the urge to scream and relaxed with a long contented sigh. Michelle, flawlessly gauging my needs, repeated the process, sucking my clit into her mouth while flicking her tongue over and around it, at times lightly, at times aggressively. She slipped a finger inside me to my g-spot.
I’d never experienced this kind of pleasure. Guys had eaten me, but nothing like this. And unlike guys, I did not need to reassure this lover, this lover needed no encouragement; she knew she was good. I became concerned only with my own joy, as my lover let me skim along the waves of exultation rippling through me. As she continued the sensation sharpened and centered on my clit. I was a slave to the orgasm building in my loins. It was coming – powerful, dynamic, like a freight train – and even Michelle could only hold me on the edge for so long.
And then it was here. Everything was suddenly hot, my vagina pulsed, and I came. Three or four intense spasms, so close in time they were almost one, rocked my loins, followed by small intense waves of joy . My body tensed, my back lifted from the bed. A flood of juice poured from my vagina. I voiced my approval with a long gentle, “Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” and then my body merged with the bed.
“Oh, Michelle that was wonderful, but I can’t take any more right now.”
She lay down next to me and I rolled over, laying my head on her shoulder. She cradled me in her arms. I drifted off to sleep.
* * * *
Michelle and I were sitting on her deck in the shade of her oak tree. After I woke I made love to her with my mouth, trying to emulate the careful graceful way she had brought me my mind-bending orgasms. After that we engaged in my first 69. Then to the shower, where we used a fresh fragrant soap and Porthault wash clothes to bring each other off again. I was not sure I could take anymore; I was grateful when Michelle suggested lunch.
“It’s time I told you about your job. You’ll understand it better with a little history.
“I met Ron because I was on a jury. I had just started my sophomore year in college and he was in his second year of practice. It was not a lengthy matter; the evidence was presented on the first day. We were to return the following day for final argument. The other jurors’ comments were consistent with my own, Ron was winning. The only question was how much money we’d award.
“I was attracted to him. He’s a good looking guy, but not drop dead gorgeous – which was the kind of guy I always aimed for – but there was something about him. I’m not sure what is was, his maturity, his easy manner, the way he seemed completely comfortable with himself. In any case I came up with this scheme. I thought it was brilliant. I would go to his office and offer to work the jury up to a higher number in exchange for a cut. I put on my tightest pair of jeans, boots with heels, and a nice clingy top. I looked great.
“He was working late. I let myself in. He must have heard the door open because he met me in the front room. He put his index finger to his lips, indicating I should stay silent.”
“It would be entirely inappropriate for me to be in contact with a member of the jury during the course of a trial. And, in any case, you’ll do it anyway.'”
I left without saying a word.
“He was right. I did it anyway. It’s not like he needed my help, but I might have gotten another $10,000.00 tacked on to the verdict.
“I went to see him that night. He took me to his bed; I became his lover.”
Michelle paused for a second, looking out over the tree line, savoring the memory.
“Everything changed that day. I’d been a lot like you. Not completely, I certainly didn’t have your affable personality, I could be a real bitch, but I was good looking, enjoyed flirting. I’d hit the bars, have guys buy me drinks. I liked playing with their heads, the beer was an excuse.”
The description fit me to the tee.
“Ron told me I was better than that, if I was going to trade on my looks and brains it should be for bigger game than a Budweiser. I went to work for him. I became a serious student, dressed better, took care of myself, and learned how to discern and exploit people’s motivations. It was much easier than I thought it would be. A beautiful woman who expects to be treated well is going to be treated well.
“At times I’d venture back to my old life. I would hit a bar, flirt some, but it bored me. Under Ron’s tutelage I learned to employ my skills for greater gains. When her husband was out of town I introduced the Registrar of Students to some lady-love and gained access to the school’s computer system. I did court runs to the judges, who began asking Ron to be sure to send me. Nothing too serious, some flirting here, a hand job there, but soon every local judge was beholden to us. Ron would learn where a juror drank beer or worked out and soon they’d be bragging to the pretty blonde on the stool or equipment next to them about their jury service, providing me with a data dump on the jury’s thoughts, information Ron could use.
“I graduated at the top of my class, went to a first rate law school, married Ron, and have practiced law with him ever since. We’ve done well.
“We have in mind for you the job I filled. You’ll have the clerical responsibilities we discussed, but you will also be honing your skills as a woman. Ron saw something in you, it was not just how you flirted with him to get the job, but that was part of it. We think you can learn to trade on your looks, smarts, and personality for a much greater reward and to all our benefit.”
“I’ll do anything you ask,” I said in complete sincerity.
“That’s my girl.”
Michelle gave me a tour of the house, ending at the barn. We saddled up two horses and explored the wooded acreage surrounding their home. When we heard Ron’s car pull on to the driveway we headed back. We put up the horses and found him in the hot tub with a glass of champagne. We disrobed; I sat to his right, Michelle to his left. He passed each of us a glass of champagne and we toasted my employment.
I leaned into him and kissed him, my tongue snaking into his mouth. The champagne on his tongue made me giddy. I heard a happy murmur from Ron; Michelle was stroking his cock. I watched it harden under her ministrations. I was again amazed by its girth. My hand joined hers and while we manipulated his member he took turns kissing us, treating me to a deep soul searching kiss and then turning to his wife to do the same. After several minutes, he sat on the edge of the tub. Michelle licked one of his balls, I gave the other the same treatment. Ron leaned back looking down at us, enjoying the sight of two beautiful women worshiping his dick.
After we finished with his balls Michelle and I licked up the shaft. When we reached the top Michelle pushed his cock towards me. I held the shaft and licked the head, dallying at the piss hole, which was dripping pre-cum, trying to force my tongue inside.
Not wanting to be selfish, I returned Ron’s dick to Michelle. She took the head between her lips, working it over with her tongue. I watched her perfect face and thick red lips make love to his cock and then took one of his heavy testicles into my mouth, cradling it on my tongue. I ran a hand over Michelle’s full breasts, feeling them heat up and her nipples grow in appreciation.
Michelle’s eyes gestured at mine, letting me know it was my turn. I let the testicle fall from my mouth and grabbed his erection, wondering exactly how far into my mouth I could get something that wide. Michelle saw me stretching and flexing my jaw, readying myself for the challenge.
“Amber, women like us never do anything we find uncomfortable. He has other women for that.”
I licked; it trembled and shook. I swallowed the head, working it with my tongue and cheeks. I spit it out and Michelle and I covered it with kisses, occasionally letting our tongues and lips play against each other, her thick silken hair cascading against my face. She took one of his fat balls in her mouth while lovingly touching and caressing his body. I frigged his shaft and kissed and licked the head, focusing on the sensitive skin directly under the crown. Ron’s eyes were shut, basking in pleasure. Soon he grunted and Michelle cooed as his cum evacuated his testicles, shooting up his cock. I locked my lips over his piss hole just in time to capture every drop.
We headed for the bedroom and one more good fuck before I went home.