Loading...As I watched her retreating back, I knew that we would be taking her home that night. Next to me, Alex was also eyeing with unconcealed appreciation the way the curves of her cute little butt spilt out of her white shorts, which were so tight they seemed painted on.
We were in St. Tropez on our annual attempt to get away from it all — “all” being our hectic, money-grubbing lives in New York — in the old sprawling villa that we owned by the water. Actually, I shouldn’t complain. New York makes St. Tropez possible.
Victor and I had a marriage that was remarkably wrinkle free due in large part to his magnanimity and his utter freedom from jealousy. The wheels on which our marriage turned were simple. If I fancied a man, I fucked him. If Victor fancied a woman, he fucked her, but on one condition. Since I was unashamedly, enthusiastically bisexual, he had to bring her into our bed for me to find out why she turned him on so. Our sex didn’t get better than those times when we held the young heaving body of his latest distraction in our arms and pitched her into moaning begging slavering madness.
His lovers never disappointed. Victor had impeccable taste, which he liked to claim was better than mine. He liked to pretend with an air of martyrdom that he “endured” patiently out of a deep abiding love for me the times I coaxed into our bed an occasional seduction of mine. Endure, my cute, pert ass! You wouldn’t guess from how hard he became when he toyed with the hot hungry bodies of the women I brought him as a wifely gift.
Victor was living the hot blooded male’s ultimate wet dream — of drowning again and again in a tangle of feminine limbs, of wallowing in the softness of two pairs of breasts, of breathing in the heady scent of two seething pussies, of listening to the music of two women moaning for his cock to plunder their flesh. But I wasn’t complaining. Truth to tell, though I would never dream of confessing it to Victor, I savored even more than he did the presence of other women in our bed, especially when I knew that Victor had already had them.
I loved the way their initial embarrassment quickly melted into pleasure at the thought of being fucked by their lover as his wife watched, not with envy or resentment, but with greed for their lush bodies and unconcealed lust. It turned them on to hold my eyes as their bodies twitched in helpless release. And that was perfect since I like to watched the little sluts too — watch their bodies jerk under Victor’s marauding hips, watch their faces twist with pleasure as their hot hungry pussies were mercilessly ravaged.
And afterwards, I liked to claim them for my own — to awaken them to the scent and the taste and the texture of a woman. I loved the fear in their eyes as boundaries that they thought immutable were dissolved. I loved the way their bodies shuddered when they finally yielded to their growing hunger for my flesh, a hunger at once inevitable and remorseless. I loved the moment when their lips finally dipped into the wet flower of my cunt and the world that they had known so far was no longer enough. I loved it when they were so gorged on the taste of me that they were unwilling to relinquish my pussy and I had to grab a fistful of their hair to peel their faces away from my crotch, their lips still shuddering softly, their eyes glazed over with lust.
My only regret was that Victor absolutely refused, despite my gentle urgings, to have another man in our bed. He was uncompromisingly straight and the thought of the naked body of another man, hard and aroused, next to his caused him real discomfort. But it didn’t stop him from being curious about my occasional trysts. He would make me describe in excruciating detail every one of my erotic encounters. He would trail his fingertips slowly over my flesh while he interrogated me. No detail was too small, too insignificant. … How big was he? Did you suck him? Did he cum in your mouth? Which one of your tight little holes did he want? Did it hurt when his cock slid into the tiny rosebud of your anus? … He especially liked the times I took a black lover. He said teasingly that he liked the chiaroscuro, the play of light and shade. The idea of my pale flesh being riven apart by a thick black cock aroused him.
By the time I finished confessing in halting strangled tones how my body had been claimed, I was desperate for release. And he was never more passionate than those nights when he knew that I had been taken by another man, that just hours ago his cum had pooled in my cunt and trickled down my thighs. I really thought that Victor should explore his bisexual side and that there was no better way of doing it than by sharing me with another man. But I never pressed the point. Victor was my miracle, my maestro who coaxed symphonies of boundless pleasure from my body. The least I could do was respect his boundaries. There were very few.
But still, there were nights when I dreamt of two men taking me at the same time, of the hard throbbing flesh of one plundering my cunt while the other claimed my bottom, of the relentless rhythm of two cocks plunging in and out of my body rubbing against each other insidiously through the thin membrane that separates my love tunnels, of my lips moaning shamelessly as thick fresh cream oozed from my orifices after they had had their way with me. I would snap awake, my thighs squishing wetly in a puddle of my juices, my cunt aching for release. And my fingers would drift down to the junction of my thighs to strum my clit like a guitar string, my mind inflamed by increasingly lascivious visions of my body being used by two firm pitiless male lovers.
As my body finally arched up in blessed release, I would console myself that my dreams had a knack of coming true. I imagined I would be sitting at a bar or lounging on a sun drenched stretch of beach and two men would catch my roving appreciative eye. They would, since fantasies are so convenient, want me as much as I wanted them. The evening would end in a hotel room where they would peel the clothes off my body with that controlled deliberation that betrays barely suppressed desire and then fuck me senseless. They would leave me naked, passed out on the sheets, my thighs slightly apart, the evidence of their lust flowing out of my ravaged holes.
But right now, as we soaked ourselves in the rays of the morning sun at the street-side café in St. Tropez where we had gone for breakfast, I was preoccupied with an entirely different problem — with how to persuade that tight little body into our waiting arms tonight.
When we had arrived in the morning, it had quickly become apparent that our choice of restaurant had been inspired. When she walked up to our table with the menu, the sunlight shimmering in her golden locks, her fresh open smile had lit up our corner of the world. She was petite, but had luscious curves that were aching to burst through her clothes. Her eyes were a soft blue, the blue of the sky after a summer rain. Apart from the wisp of fabric masquerading as a pair of shorts, she was wearing a tight white half-tee with a plunging cleavage. It seemed to be regulation wear for all the waitresses and we fervently thanked in our devious minds the owner of the café for his vision and his wisdom. When she bent over the table to serve us, the edge of one nipple peeked over the hem of her cleavage. I almost abandoned my cream filled crumpet and closed my lips over that rosy bud.
She said her name was Amy.
“Katherine,” I said in introduction, “but you can call me Kathy. And this is my husband Victor. We’re from New York.”
She was from Montana and was pleased to see a pair of fellow Americans in St. Tropez. The fellow Americans were certainly pleased to see her. She had been in St. Tropez now for several months and had part time jobs teaching English to French students and of course waitressing. She hoped to save enough to travel a little around Europe next summer. I guessed that she wasn’t more than 20. Her enthusiasm was infectious and we felt our jaded, jet lagged spirits rise. By the time she had returned with the check, I had already formulated a vague plan of action.
“Amy, would you do us a favor?”
“Sure,” she replied, “What can I do for you?”
That smile was going to be the death of me.
“Well, we’re a little out of touch with St. Tropez. Would you join us for drinks and dinner tonight, if you don’t have any other commitments, that is?” I said and added teasingly, “Being as pretty as you are, I’m sure your calendar must be very crowded, with a dozen boyfriends breathing down your neck.”
“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she mumbled, blushing beet-red, “and I’ll be happy to come.”
Things were looking up.
“Great,” I said, “We’ll be here at 7 and you get to pick where we go.”
She nodded shyly as she scooped up the cash and headed back into the café.
When we pulled up at 7 in the six-door limousine that we had hired for the duration of our stay, her jaw dropped. I thought she looked positively endearing, standing on the pavement in her cropped tee, her tiny shorts and her white four-inch heels. I ignored the startled expression on her face and inclined my head gently for her to hop in. She stepped through the door and eased herself into the seat beside me gingerly as though the mere act of sitting down would ruin the upholstery. When she looked up, she had a worried expression on her face.
“I was thinking of this seaside restaurant in the Baie de Pampelonne which has, like, good music and decent food.”
She hesitated.
“But it does get a little rowdy and noisy and I was wondering that maybe it may not be good enough for you,” she finished in a rush of words.
“No…No. Any place that is good enough for you is good enough for us,” I said quickly to reassure her, “Your place sounds delightful. Believe me, where we come from, we could use some music and good cheer.”
She still looked at us doubtfully. She was eyeing warily the vision of Victor looking ever so dapper in his tuxedo and the shimmering lines of my wine colored gown.
“I feel a little … underdressed,” she said finally, shifting nervously in her seat.
I was tempted to tell her that as far as I was concerned, she was seriously overdressed. I would rather she was naked on the black leather, her head thrown back in ecstasy as my fingers pumped in and out of her sopping cunt. But she was right. We did look a little incongruous — the three of us. Victor and I had dressed out of habit and had overlooked the possibility that we may be too well turned out for the evening that Amy had in mind. Frankly, we were long beyond the point in our lives where we allowed such trifles to trouble us. But Amy was obviously uncomfortable and I wanted to put her at ease.
“No, Amy. I suspect we are overdressed,” I said gently, “Rather foolish of us. But I hope you won’t be embarrassed to be seen with us.”
“Oh, no. … Of course not,” she said quickly, her face coloring, nervous that she had given offence.
“Good. Then let’s just settle down and enjoy the evening, shall we?”
She relaxed visibly and sank into the soft leather of the seat with a contented sigh. Victor, ever attentive, had already poured a glass of red wine for her from a bottle that he had extracted from the liquor cabinet. I lifted my glass and clinked hers.
“To us,” I said softly.
“To us,” she responded after a pause, taking a moment to quell the shyness that was threatening again to overcome her.
Once the chauffeur had been given directions to the restaurant and we were gliding through the night, the Amy that we had met in the morning quickly reasserted herself. She was a happy person … and voluble. She listened with unfeigned interest to Victor’s stories about our lives in New York. Of course, like all inspired storytellers, Victor thought nothing of making them up as he went along. At the end of an evening, there was no guarantee that Victor’s account even faintly resembled the lives that we lived. He liked to call it embroidery, but believe me, he doesn’t give himself enough credit. It’s more like wholesale weaving. She giggled happily at all the funny bits. I listened to the silvery tinkle of her laughter and thought how much I would enjoy turning that into a soft moan of helpless pleasure later than night.
When we arrived at the restaurant, we were quickly ushered into a cozy secluded booth along one wall of the establishment. We pointedly ignored the few curious looks that were cast in our direction as we slid into our seats. The place was everything that she had promised it would be. It had good foot tapping music and a large dance floor that beckoned invitingly for when the mood took one. The crowd was noisy though the booth were we were seated was some distance from the main press of bodies and was something of an island in the storm. The food smelt promising and I looked forward to an interesting evening and hopefully an even more absorbing night.
Victor sauntered off to the long bar along one wall of the restaurant to get us drinks. She seemed comfortable and happy.
“Tell me,” I said, “I’m rather curious about your not having a boyfriend. Unless young men in this country have changed a great deal since I was last here, they wouldn’t have left a flower like you unplucked.”
She blushed.
“Well, actually, my two jobs don’t leave me too much time for romance,” she replied, “and I didn’t want to date any of the students I teach English at the night school.”
Then she added quietly, “But I do miss the companionship and … you know…” Her voice trailed off.
“The sex?” I asked her.
“Well, yes … the sex,” she said, blushing and laughed to hide her confusion. She looked very fetching.
“What a waste,” I said, shaking my head at her and running my eyes slowly down her body. It didn’t seem like she would stop blushing any time soon.
The food was delicious, but we ate sparingly. Victor and I like to stay light when we are hunting and Amy, I suspect, was too shy to eat her fill. The music, which had been lively, suddenly changed. A slow romantic number drifted over the tables and the crowd quieted.
“You are not being much of a gentleman, Victor,” I said, “Ask the lady to dance.”
Victor grinned broadly and held his hand out to Amy, who was blushing furiously and protesting vehemently. But he would have none of it. As he drew her into his arms on the dance floor, she was awkward at first, fearful perhaps of my reaction to him holding her close. But as the music claimed her, she relaxed, closed her eyes and laid her head against Victor’s chest. Victor held her softly around the waist with one arm. With his other hand, he smoothed her hair back from her forehead and gently … oh so gently … stroked her back. I could see her almost purr with contentment as she arched against that fleeting caress.
When they returned to the table, hand in hand, her face was flushed and her eyes were shining. I smiled at her and pulled her down beside me. She was sneaking sidelong glances at Victor, little glances of longing, when she thought I wasn’t looking. Make your wish, I wanted to whisper in her ear, and it may come true sooner than you think.
The music was interrupted by an announcement by a portly man in a tight, ill-fitting suit yielding a microphone. His face was shining with sweat. We knew enough French to understand what he was saying. “Wet T-shirt contest!”
There was a roar of approval from the gathered men while the women pretended to look shocked. Amy was aghast, wondering what opinion we would form of an establishment that offered such low entertainment. And, horror of horrors, she had recommended it! I grinned.
“This is amusing,” I declared, not giving Amy a chance to express shock or suggest an exit.
The portly Master of Ceremonies began to circulate, coaxing one woman after another onto the polished bar to be drenched by a bored looking chap wielding a handheld spray. Vehement protests became quiet reluctance and then enthusiastic shimmying. Hips were circled, boobs were shaken, bottoms were jiggled as a wildly enthusiastic, mostly male audience cheered on each contestant.
He finally drifted over to our table with his microphone. He knew a potential prey when he saw one. He did not even dare suggest that I bump and grind for the benefit of his leery audience. But he was drooling at the sight of little Amy.
“How about you, miss?”
She screeched and slid back in her seat to get as far away as possible from this minion of the devil. I should have added my voice to hers and reprimanded the man for his insolence. That is all that it would have taken. But I was feeling unaccountably wicked.
“Why don’t you, Amy?” I asked, “Lets really give them something to look at.”
For a moment, she was paralyzed with shock and she stared at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. That was all the opportunity the man needed. Before Amy knew it, she was teetering precariously on her heels on the polished bar, now slick with a dozen drenchings.
She looked so bewildered and so colossally out of place that she must have struck a chord with the chap manning the hand-spray. He suddenly chose this moment to come into his own, to shake off his lassitude and get really naughty. When the burst of water hit her crotch, she was taken completely unawares. The white shorts became immediately transparent, revealing pink lace panties and the shadow of her golden curls.
Amy shrieked and whipped around quickly to hide the junction of her thighs from the avid gaze of her eager audience. Regrettably, her ass was way too tempting. As another burst of water smashed against the curves of her lovely butt and trickled down the back of her thighs, there was very little left to the imagination.
Now increasingly distraught, Amy turned around again, her hands over her crotch to conceal what little modesty she had left. The man at the bar dropped the handheld spray, lifted a jug of water that was lying beside him and poured it slowly over the front of Amy’s t-shirt. The man is an artist, I thought as I grinned broadly. She wasn’t wearing a bra. The rosy pink circles of her nipples, now puckered from the cold, poked enticingly at the crowd through the fabric of her t-shirt. Amy gave up. She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. The crowd went wild. It was a miracle she wasn’t raped. She made such a enticing picture that I was almost tempted to take her myself, there on the bar, in front of that frantic hollering crowd.
When she returned to our table, she looked mortified. I pulled her down beside me and cuddled her in my arms.
“I’m so embarrassed,” she groaned, as she hid her face in my neck.
There was of course no doubt as to who was winning that particular contest. I accepted on behalf of the cowering Amy, with as much grace as possible, the winner’s bauble, some shining trinket which, to foreclose any element of surprise, prominently featured a pair of naked breasts. I signaled with my eyes to Victor to leave us alone. As I watched him saunter away, I gently stroked her hair.
“Its not the end of the world, sweetie,” I consoled her, “If I had a body as hot as yours, I would flaunt it too.”
“Oh, Kathy … but you do. You are so beautiful,” she said, looking up from my shoulder.
I wanted to tell her that if she kept looking at me like that with those baby blue eyes of hers, I wouldn’t guarantee her modesty or what was left of it after that delicious little exhibition. There is only so much I can fight temptation. I’m also human. But I merely smiled and drew her head down to my shoulder again when I what I really wanted to do was gently heft that luscious breast in my palm and draw that puckered nipple between my lips.
“So how did it feel,” I asked her, “to have all the men in the room want you and probably most of the women too?”
When she looked shocked, I whispered, “I know Victor did.”
Her body shuddered in my arms. She tried for a brief moment to pull away, but I was holding her too firmly.
“Don’t look so shocked, sweetheart,” I said, softly stroking her hair, “I would be alarmed if he didn’t notice beauty like yours. Our marriage is honest. We admit that we can be attracted to other people. He plays the field when the fancy takes him. We both do.”
I lowered my voice to whisper in her ear.
“And occasionally, he brings his latest conquest into our bed and we toy with her all night.”
Her eyes were as wide as saucers. Time, I thought, for the final twist of the knife.
“You know, when I said earlier that most of the women in the room probably wanted you, that included me.”
She moaned softly at my words. I lifted her face up with a finger under her chin.
“Are you upset, sugar, that I said that?” I asked her gently.
She lowered her eyes, unable or unwilling to meet mine.
“No,” she mumbled into the skin of my throat.
After a pause during which she seemed to be resolving some inner struggle, she said, with a tone of wonder in her voice, “I’m actually flattered that you would want me.”
“Who wouldn’t want you?” I asked, “You are so sweet, so innocent, so heartbreakingly beautiful.”
I gave her a moment to ruminate and then decided to take the plunge.
“Come home with us tonight, sweetheart,” I coaxed.
When she seemed about to speak, I silenced her with a finger on her lips. They were trembling.
“Don’t say anything now. Think about it and give me an answer in the car.”
We gently disengaged as Victor returned to the table.
“Are my lovely ladies ready to leave?”
“Yes, we are,” Amy replied, with a new firmness.
As the car pulled away from the curb and the lights of the restaurant began to fade behind us, I drew her into my arms and kissed her softly on her lips. She was tense for a moment, her eyes anxiously scanning Victor’s face for any sign of displeasure. When he smiled warmly, her body finally melted into mine.
I knew only too well what Amy was going through. I remembered, as though it were yesterday, the first time I had been kissed by a woman. I remembered drowning in the softness, being drunk on her taste. Amy’s lips yielded readily to mine. She began to moan as I nibbled her lip, sucked the soft wet flesh into my mouth and painted wet trails of desire on her tongue. When my hand slid upwards from her knees, her thighs parted to let me softly cup her mound.
When I finally broke our kiss and retreated, she followed, searching for my lips blindly, her forehead furrowed in a sweet frown, making urgent little noises in the back of her throat. Her hips began to surge, softly pushing her crotch into my palm. She no longer needed to answer my question. Her body was doing it for her.
“Be patient, my pet,” I whispered as I gently blew into her ear, “We’re going to take you soon enough.”
When we arrived at our villa, I helped her out of the car and supported her in the driveway with an arm around her waist as the vehicle pulled away. When the taillights finally disappeared into the darkness, Victor scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the entrance. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled his cheek. He waited patiently while I opened the door and then carried her to the main bedroom.
When he placed her softly on the edge of the huge four-poster bed, she sat quietly, her hands in her laps, her fingers twining. For a long moment, both of us just drank in the vision on our bed — of Amy sitting patiently, her head bowed, now a little shy and uncertain, not knowing what the night would bring her. For our part, we were determined that the night would bring her pleasure so intense, so devouring that she would be unable to bear it.
I slipped off my shoes, climbed onto the bed and slid behind her. I reached around her body, gathered her tiny hands in mine and gently lifted them above her head. She looked so open then, so vulnerable that my pussy ached at the thought that we would claim that fragile little body tonight. As she obeyed my wordless command and kept her arms raised above her head, I gripped the hem of her half tee and peeled it off her body. As I did, the hem caught on her nipples for a fraction of a second and then flipped loose, making her soft breasts bounce deliciously.
I tossed her tiny t-shirt on the floor and then slid backwards on my knees taking her with me until she was lying flat on her back on the bed with her head resting on my lap and her legs dangling off the edge. Her pale breasts looked so ripe and luscious that for a moment I was tempted to cup them with my palms and softly knead them. I wanted to hear her moan as I worked her flesh. But there is time for that, I warned myself. Make her wait. Make her seethe. … Make her beg.
I nodded at Victor who seemed transfixed by the erotic vision spread out before his gaze. He tore his eyes away from her breasts and lifted her legs, one by one, to slide off her high-heeled shoes. He gently massaged the sole of each foot with his hands, restoring the circulation. She sighed with contentment in my arms. She barely noticed Victor’s fingers undo the clasp of her shorts or unzip her, even though the room was so quiet I could hear each metal tooth of the zipper tear loose.
“Raise your hips, sweetheart,” I cooed.
As she did, Victor gently peeled off her shorts and her lace panties, which were still wet from her little performance at the restaurant and sticking to her skin. She was finally naked. We had both held many eager bodies in our arms — more than would bear counting — but we had rarely seen anything so beautiful.
Her pussy was so perfectly formed — like a delicate shell or an exotic flower. Her outer lips were already swollen and had parted to reveal the soft pink flesh within which was shimmering with the juices that had pooled in her slit. Her clit was unusually long, the pink tip peeking out of its fleshy hood. Her sex was framed by a dusting of golden curls, neatly trimmed, which were glinting in the soft light. Our eyes met over her body and they held the same hunger, the same burning need, the same wonder that this miracle was ours tonight. Victor was almost drooling. I shook my head gently. He closed his eyes with a shudder and fought the impulse to bury his face in her crotch and to taste that sublime flesh.
It is a curse to be so beautiful, I thought. I imagined that her earlier erotic encounters were probably unsatisfactory, hurried fumbles that left her wanting. For what man could resist, after a glimpse of that promised land, the urge to soak himself immediately in her flesh?
“My God, you are beautiful,” I marveled.
She blushed, suddenly all too aware that she was stark naked while we were still fully clothed.
“Would you like to see him naked?” I asked her softly.
“Yes … please.”
Her eyes never left his body as it unfurled from the clothes that he carelessly discarded on the floor. By the time he was naked, he was already hard and erect. As she looked at him, his cock twitched and she gasped, her thighs opening of their own accord, offering him the homage of her cunt. My God, she is so hungry, I thought.
“Do you like him, baby?” I asked her.
“Yes … Oh, God, yes,” she stammered.
“Good, because you’re his to use tonight.”
That brutal assertion of ownership, the sudden realization that tonight her body wasn’t hers, that it was ours to savor seemed to arouse her and her thighs parted even more in an unconscious act of submission.
“Would you like to see me naked too?” I asked.
She nodded dumbly. She seemed too overwhelmed to speak. I gently eased her head onto the sheet and then stood up on the bed, above her. I slid the dress off my shoulders and it pooled on the bed in a rustle of silk. I wasn’t wearing a bra. When her gaze fell on the soft underside of my pert breasts, I heard her sharp inward breath. As I drew my panties over my thighs, shin and ankles to finally toss them aside, she moaned. Her eyes were riveted to my bare, smooth shaven pussy, which was already shining with the evidence of my arousal.
“So beautiful,” she mouthed, her fingers sliding up my shin and past my knees towards the wet flower of my sex. I let her get very close, within a breath of my cunt, before I slapped her fingers away. She yelped, an injured look on her face.
“Not so fast, sweetie. You are not getting to touch that for a long time.”
“Why? … I want to,” she whined fetchingly.
“Because we are going to play with you first,” I teased, “and do unspeakably delicious things to your body.”
She shivered in anticipation and rewarded me with an impish little smile. She shrieked as Victor suddenly scooped her up in his arms, walked around the bed and laid her on her back in the middle of it. We clambered on, on either side of her. Her eyes drifted between the two of us, wondering what we had in mind.
I dipped my head and ran the tip of my tongue along her quivering lip, tracing its outline in a slow, sensuous circle. She moaned quietly as I tasted her. As her lips parted to draw my tongue into her mouth, Victor grabbed a fistful of her hair and twisted her towards him. He held her like that for a long moment, his lips almost touching hers, his breath teasing her skin to let her sense her own powerlessness. When she finally whimpered, desperate for the relief of his lips, he kissed her … hard, almost bruising her flesh.
When he released her, she was gasping for air. I placed my palm gently against her cheek, turned her towards me and then soothed her swollen bruised lips with one long wet lick. When I sucked her flesh softly into my mouth, she groaned. Soft, hard …soft, hard. That’s the way it was going to be tonight. I knew it would drive her wild. Much more of this and the synapses in her brain would begin to misfire and her mind would slowly disintegrate. And then, when she was wallowing in that secret place where pleasure is a constant and raw sensation the only truth, we would finally take her sweet little cunt.
As we passed her back and forth, for her soft trembling lips to be abused and to be consoled, her body began to jerk, her back arching off the sheets, offering us the sweet mounds of her breasts. Incoherent little noises were issuing from her lips, but I knew what she wanted. She wanted to be touched, to be fondled, to be caressed. She wanted more … Oh, God, so much more … than we were giving her. I smiled at her eagerness.
“Do you want us to touch you?” I asked.
“Oh, God, yes … please,” she stammered.
“You have only to ask,” I whispered as my hand rose to her breast.
I fluttered my fingers over her right nipple, dusting it with the faintest of caresses. She moaned, pleasure mixing in her eyes with something like regret that she had asked for this — this fleeting touch that would set her nerves on fire, but leave her thirst unquenched.
And then, Victor’s thumb and forefinger closed around her left nipple, squeezing it hard and tugging until the weight of her breast was suspended from that puckered nub. She screamed and her body flung itself off the sheets, trying vainly to relieve the pressure on her nipple. We eased her trembling body down and then began to play. While my fingertips danced over her milky globe, Victor kneaded the breast that he had claimed, squeezing, milking, massaging. Her eyes were wild, her mind already confused by the flood of opposing sensation.
“Do you like what we are doing to you, baby?” I asked.
“… Yes,” she managed.
“If our fingers can do this to you, can you imagine what our tongues can do?” I whispered.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, “What are you doing to me?”
“Just driving you slowly insane, sweetheart,” I cooed.
I spoke the truth.
I shifted my weight on the bed and slowly ran the flat of my tongue wetly along the tip of her right nipple. Her lips parted in a shuddering sigh that lasted as long as that endless lick. Victor was right on cue. He bit down firmly on her left nipple. She shrieked. And then he began to softly chew the rubbery flesh of that rosy peak.
She couldn’t seem to stop trembling. Her hands rose to gently hold my head and Victor’s to press our faces into her heaving orbs, almost as if she were fearful that our lips may abandon her at any moment. We had given her no reason to believe that we might not. But for now, we were content to devour those quivering globes.
I worshipped the perfection of that sweet soft orb by nibbling and nipping her skin, sometimes pausing to trail my tongue wetly over her flesh. As I circled her breast, teasing, tasting; I kept returning to her nipple to suck it softly again and again into the wet cavern of my mouth. I gazed into her eyes, now glazed over with lust, as I drew her nipple out from between my lips, trailing a silvery thread of spit. That gloriously fragile connection between our heaving hungry bodies made my pussy lurch.
Next to me, Victor was sucking greedy mouthfuls of her flesh hard enough to leave pink circles on her pale flesh. Her breasts would be a sight when we were done, I thought. Her right globe, flushed with excitement, but smooth as milk and her left marked by the soft bruises of Victor’s need.
As we ravished her tits, her legs were opening and closing fitfully. She was rubbing her thighs together in a desperate attempt to ease the tension building in her body. My little baby needs her pussy stroked, I mused.
We moved almost as one. Our hands reached out to claim the soft inner flesh of her thighs to flatten her on the sheets. Deprived of the relief, however evanescent, of movement, her body arched, her eyes rolling back in her head. Her fingers tightened in our hair and a strangled moan issued from her lips. I shook my head loose from her grip and leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“You are so hungry. Tell us what you want, baby.”
“Touch me … please.”
“Where? … Tell me where.”
Her lips were gurgling.
“You know …” she gasped finally, “there … between my legs.”
“Oh, we already are,” I said flatly.
She groaned at my cruel masquerade, my pretence not to understand.
“Oh, God … touch my pussy … please.”
Her body shuddered while she said it, aroused by the act of pleading so graphically for what she wanted.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I asked her in a voice like the soft rustle of silk, “to ask us for what you need?”
As our hands began to travel upwards towards her molten core, she struggled to stay still, fearful that sudden movement would dissuade us from our purpose. When my hand reached the junction of her thighs, I gently caressed her pouting lips, tracing its corrugated edge with my fingertips. Victor was, of course, more impetuous. He split her cunt open with his finger from her hole to her clit. He retraced that wet path with his thumb and sank it into her waiting depths. She wailed as she was finally impaled on his flesh. Her lips began to surge fucking herself on his thumb. We let her. She wasn’t going to cum that way, but she was going to drive herself crazy.
After a while, Victor replaced his thumb with two fingers, placed the flat of his other palm on her mound to still her and began to slowly … oh, so slowly …fingerfuck her. Meanwhile, our lips were still working on her soft heaving breasts, which were now slick with our spit and shining in the light. Her head was thrashing from side to side.
As that delicious ravishment continued and showed no signs of ceasing, she finally snapped, desperate now to ease the ache in her body. She tugged weakly at Victor’s hair and as he raised his head to look at him, she pleaded, “Fuck me … please fuck me.”
My little baby is learning to talk, I thought.
“I can’t, sweetheart,” Victor was telling her, “Not unless she lets me,” he added, nodding at me.
She turned to me then.
“Kathy … please,” she moaned, “Make him fuck me.”
I smiled at her softly as I smoothed the hair back from her sweat slick forehead.
“Let me understand, Amy,” I said gently, “You want me to make my husband fuck you?”
She opened her mouth to say something, but then swallowed hard. At that moment, she realized that she couldn’t form the words; that she couldn’t ask me for my husband. Her eyes fluttered closed and she buried her face in my neck with a groan.
“Oh, God … Kathy … I …”
I placed my hand behind her head to draw her close and rocked her gently to console her.
“Of course I will,” I whispered into her hair, “I’m going to make him fuck you out of your sweet little mind. But it’s too early for that, isn’t it … too early for him to soak himself in your juices? We haven’t even tasted you yet. Would you let us do that, baby? Would you let me taste you?”
“Oh, God … Yes,” she groaned.
“Now?”
“Yes, now … please.”
I suppressed a smile at her eagerness. As I began to crawl down her trembling body, I relinquished her breast, which I was still cupping softly in my palm, to Victor.
“Treat it gently,” I admonished.
As Victor’s lips closed softly over her nipple, I settled myself between Amy’s outspread thighs. Victor reluctantly withdrew his wet fingers from her sopping hole to allow me free access. As a preview of coming attractions, I grabbed Victor’s hand and stripped her juices off his fingers with my lips. God, she tasted good. I couldn’t wait to wet my lips in the source.
I looked at her for a long moment, committing each fold, each crevice to memory. She looked delectable, a feast fit for the Gods. The stuff of Greek myth and you get to taste her, you lucky bitch, I told myself and grinned. I blew a gentle breath over her cunt, cooling her heated flesh. I chuckled as I heard her moan. As that whisper of air traveled over her folds, she was heaving, trying to smash out of the prison of my hands pinning her thighs, reaching for more contact. When it seemed she would hurt herself, I relented and ran the tip of my tongue along the length of her swollen lips. I slowly traced their outline as I had traced the outline of her other lips which were now mewling in appreciation of what I was doing to her.
I sucked each swollen petal into my mouth, wetting it and then gently drawing it between my teeth before releasing it to snap back against her flesh. After they were slippery with spit, I turned to the hot valley between. I traced its length with the tip of my tongue all the way to her clit.
I resisted the temptation to suck that luscious little polyp, now engorged with blood and peeking out of its fleshy hood, into my mouth. But I traced tiny circles around it, stimulating her nerve endings. My lips roamed the surface of her slick inner folds to gently suck in small sweet mouthfuls. By the time I retraced my path and plunged my tongue into her wet hole, she was moaning continuously. I couldn’t get enough of the taste of her, of the pearly liquid that I scooped out of her hole. I must have been thirsty. But, at the same time, I didn’t want to be too greedy and make that hot little cunt explode in my mouth. I had other plans for her. I crawled back up her body. As I hovered over her, her nostrils dilated at the scent of her own arousal.
“Your nipples are lovely, sweetheart. But lets give Victor something more, shall we?”
She just groaned in answer. I scooted around to lie on my back and then with Victor’s help, flipped her onto my body, her cunt now floating before my eyes. This is what heaven must look like, I thought. She was groggy with a surfeit of pleasure, but she suddenly realized that her face was between my thighs and what lay before her.
I felt her soft hands on my thighs, parting them. I felt her breath on the wet tissues of my cunt, felt her fingers gently part my swollen petals, splaying me completely open. She is looking at me, I thought, Oh, God … let her find me beautiful. I wanted her so such to taste me, to want me as I wanted her. I willed her on silently, each muscle in my body rigid with anticipation. When I finally felt her lips land in a soft tender kiss on my wet folds, I heaved a sigh of relief and reached for her hips.
She was eager, but tentative. Her delicate touch, her soft yearning kisses were driving me crazy. She was being too gentle. I wanted more. I softly licked the wet open flower of her cunt and she began to mirror my movements.
As her head began to bob up and down as she worked, Victor got on his knees behind my head and gently parted the leaves of her ass. I heard his sharp intake of breath as her tight little butthole was finally exposed. I saw him lean down and run his tongue softly, wetly through her crack and over her puckered anus.
She gasped at the liquid contact and her body sought instinctively to jerk away from that insidious pressure. But I was holding her too firmly for that. For a moment, her body was rigid; but then as Victor’s tongue traveled that terrain once again bathing the forbidden flower of her butthole in his spit, she moaned and her muscles relaxed, surrendering to her new hunger.
I reached up to push Victor’s face away from the warm crease of her ass. As he looked at me quizzically, I smiled, trailed a fingertip through her cunt and began to anoint her anus with her juices. I did it slowly, savoring the way she shuddered at my touch. By the time I was done, Victor’s eyes were burning with lust. With a groan that seemed to come from his loins, he dipped his head again and began to lick her juices from the tiny folds of her asshole. She moaned into my cunt.
By the time we had done that a few times … Victor can get really greedy … her limbs were jerking spasmodically, no longer under her control. I finally eased out from under her body and rose up on my knees. Victor was still holding her cheeks open, gazing longingly at the tight pink hole of her anus.
“You want that sweet little hole, don’t you, baby?” I whispered, “You’ll have it. And I promise you she will beg you to take it, but not tonight. Tonight, I’ve other plans for her.”
As we watched her body on the sheets, twitching and shuddering under our prolonged assault on her senses, his forehead creased with concern.
“She’s going crazy, sweetheart.”
“Isn’t that the idea?” I asked him gently, stroking his cheek. Victor can be weak sometimes.
I rolled her over onto her back and eased her thighs open. I placed a hand behind Victor’s head and drew his face towards her waiting cunt.
“Suck her,” I said gently, “but don’t make her cum. Just keep her boiling over. I want to cum first.”
As Victor’s head dipped into the wet grotto of her pussy, I straddled her head and lowered my sex onto her lips. As she felt the wet kiss of my pussy on her mouth, her eyes fluttered open.
“Suck me, baby,” I whispered, “Make me cum.”
Her tongue burned a long wet furrow in my cunt as she began to lick. She more than made up for her inexperience with enthusiasm and just the sight of that angelic face working between my legs was threatening to tip me over the edge. But before I went tumbling into dizzying pleasure, I wanted something else and I hoped she would give it to me.
I braced myself on my hands and shifted slightly forward. She hesitated for a brief second before her tongue flicked out, branding the soft little hole of my anus. She continued to lick, painting with her spit the folds that radiated from my tiny hole as I threw my head back and moaned. When I could no longer take it, I shifted backwards and offered the plump little morsel of my clit to her lips. She understood my silent plea, slid my clit into her mouth, closed her eyes and sucked. I exploded, screaming my pleasure to the century old rafters of our bedroom.
When my breathing quieted and my heartbeat returned to normal, I looked over my shoulder at Victor and gasped in a strangled whisper, “Finish her.”
Victor tenderly cupped the cheeks of her tight little ass in his palms and lifted her cunt into his waiting mouth. I watched as Victor sucked the soft flesh of her pussy into his mouth whole. I looked down at the face trapped between my thighs. Her eyes had widened and there was something akin to panic in them and shock that such pleasure was possible.
It didn’t take long. It couldn’t, not with Victor lashing with his tongue the wet pulp of her pussy in his mouth. She moaned her pleasure into my cunt. Her lips fluttering helplessly in my wet folds almost tipped me over into another orgasm. I marveled at what this little angel could do to me. I was still shuddering from the aftershocks of my first release.
I held her pinned down as her body shuddered and shook in the whirlwind of her release. She was still twitching when Victor finally lowered her delectable little bottom onto the sheets. I got off her then and began to lick my juices from her lips, her cheeks and her throat. Victor was washing her pussy with long laps of his tongue. She groaned, barely conscious, as her body trembled in our arms like a leaf in a storm.
When the tremors subsided, I whispered in her ear, “Victor did you so beautifully, didn’t he? Don’t you want to thank him, baby? Don’t you want to taste him?”
“Yes,” she groaned, her fingers scrabbling on the sheets, reaching out blindly.
I signaled to Victor to lie on his back on the bed next to her. I placed an arm tenderly around her shoulder and raised her up. Her body was still drunk on the exquisite torture it had suffered and her fingers gripped me softly to support herself. When her eyes fell on Victor’s prone body and the hard glistening pillar of flesh that crowned it, her lips parted in a little sob. I moved to the other side of him and gently gripped his pulsing shaft in my hand. My fingers barely closed around his girth.
“He’s all yours,” I cooed.
She didn’t seem to hear me. She seemed mesmerized by the sight of his rampant cock, now trapped in the prison of my fist. As she neared, I relinquished my grip on Victor’s flesh and his cock twitched. A tiny little shiver ran through her frame as she reached out to grip the throbbing shaft.
“It’s so beautiful,” she marveled and then she bent down to plant a soft achingly gentle kiss on the straining head. She held it carefully as though something infinitely precious. Her gentle adoration of his flesh was having its effect on Victor who was struggling to stay still. I leaned forward to prize his cock from her grip and then ran the tip of my tongue slowly along its length from his balls to his tiny leaking lips. She immediately followed my cue. She traced the length of his cock with her tongue and then sipped the shimmering pool of pre cum that had gathered at the tip.
The next few minutes must have been the longest of Victor’s life thus far. We made love to his cock, Amy and I, our lips and tongue working simultaneously to wet, to taste every inch of his throbbing flesh. Our lips met at his tip and we kissed softly as we engulfed the bloated head of his cock in our mouths.
When I broke that kiss, she claimed him for herself and slid the purple crown between her lips and softly suckled. I had never seen anyone look so contented. Her eyes were closed and she was purring in her throat like a happy little kitten. That gentle vibration was going straight to Victor’s balls. He was clawing the sheet into sweaty clumps, desperately fighting the urge to empty his balls into her soft fluttering throat.
I cradled his head in my arms and whispered, “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? She’s going to be such a hot little fuck.”
He groaned like I had buried a knife between his ribs. I knew he wouldn’t last very long in the unbearably sweet prison of that mouth. I gently gripped her throat to prize her away from his flesh and whispered, “If you keep doing that, baby, he’s going to cum in your hot little mouth. You don’t want that, do you?”
“I want … I want,” she mumbled around his shaft, holding on for dear life and refusing to relinquish his cock from the tight ring of her lips.
“No, you don’t,” I explained patiently, “You want him to fuck your sweet little cunt. He wants that too. He’s wanted that from the moment he saw you in your sexy tee and your tight shorts. You’ll let him have it, won’t you, baby?”
At that, she finally looked up, her innocent blue eyes filled with a new hunger, eager now to have her body split open by his rampant flesh. I held her close to me and softly stroked her golden curls as I whispered, “Time to get fucked, sweetheart.”
She shuddered deliciously in my arms. I arranged her on the bed, on her back, a pillow under her hips to raise her dripping hole for Victor’s invading cock. Victor kneeled between her legs and gazed down at her pliant flesh, hungry now to be claimed.
I took him gently in the circle of my fist and placed the tip against the sopping wet hole of her cunt. She mewled in anticipation of her coming violation. I decided to make her wait. I decided to tease them both until their nerve endings were screaming to be joined. I dragged the tip of his cock through her pussy, marking fiery trails on her wet eager flesh. Her hips were jerking, her hole desperately seeking the relief of his cock. I let her find it and when I saw the relief wash across her face, I pulled it out. The cry that tore out of her throat was no longer human.
Then, finally, I pressed her hips flat on the pillow, aimed his cock like an arrow into her weeping hole and let him bury himself in her depths. I saw his eyes widen at the heat and the tightness of her and his lips parted in a groan that seemed to come from his balls. Then, he began to fuck her with long steady strokes, almost coming out before plunging all the way back in.
Her eyes were wild and no sound would emerge from her open mouth, her moan of pleasure at being fucked so deliciously trapped in her throat. I kissed her softly and sucked the moan from her lips. I caressed her with my voice, wheedling, seducing, stroking.
“He feels good, doesn’t he — long and thick and hard? Is he fucking you good, baby? Is he fucking you nice and deep?”
She groaned, her eyes glazed over with a hunger that she could no longer control. As I looked at those unseeing eyes, I decided that it was time to up the ante and really melt her into liquid lust. I got up to kneel behind Victor and then gently pushed him down until his body was flat against hers. Her lips immediately latched onto his and her fingers scrabbled hungrily on his back. She wrapped her legs around his waist to pull him closer to herself. For what I had in mind, that was perfect.
I gently pushed Victor’s legs wider apart and knelt between them. My head dipped to the junction of their bodies and my tongue swept wetly across the tiny little rosebud of her anus. I felt her body jerk and I smiled to myself. I ravaged her tight orifice mercilessly with my wet muscle until she was moaning like a whore into Victor’s mouth.
My lips drifted upwards to capture Victor’s velvety balls. I sucked each into my mouth only to release it, wet with my spit. Then I began to lick the wrinkled skin gently, bouncing his soft vulnerable flesh on the flat of my tongue. By the time my tongue trailed over his perineum and dipped into the puckered flower of his anus, they were both delirious with need. I sensed that they were close … very close.
He was no longer fucking her. They were just writhing together … one flesh, one desperate raging need. She came first, her body jerking helplessly under his, her scream of pleasure muffled by his mouth. Her spasming cunt finally tipped him over into blessed oblivion. As I saw his balls tighten as a prelude to his release, I lowered my head and rewarded them with a long lazy lick. He bellowed like a stuck bull and his swollen cock boiled over into her cunt. As he came, I kept licking him, laving him … loving him.
It was an eternity before their bodies quieted and her ankles slipped from his sweat soaked back, relinquishing her grip on his body. I tugged gently at his hips until he lifted himself off her body with a groan and rolled onto his back on the sheets. He had not softened and his cock was glistening with a mixture of his cum and her juices. I delicately gripped his cock between a thumb and a forefinger and licked it clean with long loving sweeps. When I looked up, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made my cunt weep.
“Come here, you witch,” he growled, holding out his arms to me.
I crawled up his body and curled up in his arms, my head resting on his shoulders.
“Didn’t you like what I did?” I asked sweetly.
“I loved it,” he whispered softly, “I love everything you do to me and for me every moment of our lives.”
I felt my heart lurch with a hunger for this man that was so intense that if Amy hadn’t emptied his balls with her hungry little cunt, my body would have eaten him alive. I would have thrust his hard throbbing shaft into my womb and never let him go. I felt a momentary stab of regret that I couldn’t claim him then, at that very moment, but it passed.
He gently cupped my mound with his palm and grinned at how wet I was. I slithered against his palm, rubbing my wet hungry flesh against it.
“I assume you’re not done yet,” he said.
“No,” I replied coyly.
He laughed and then kissed me tenderly on my forehead.
“Go for it, girl. Take her to heaven,” he said, “but I’m going to pass. You two little devils have milked me dry.”
I watched his naked body as he walked out relearning the beloved lines that I knew so well until the door closed behind him. Then I turned to Amy who was still lying where I had left her, her sweet body racked by an occasional tremor.
I gazed at her for a long time — at the face shining with sweat, at the rise and fall of her breasts, at her thighs softly parted and the thick trail of cum oozing out of her cunt. I spread her thighs wider and knelt between them. As my head lowered, her eyes fluttered open. I held them with my own as my tongue gently scooped up the thick white cream leaking out of her pussy lips.
She groaned, unbearably aroused as I was at the thought of my licking up my husband’s cum from her swollen cunt. I licked her softly, steadily with long sweeps of my tongue, cleaning her up. When I was done, I slid up her body to fold her into my arms. I let the intimacy of that shared moment sink in before I whispered, “Victor’s had you. Now it’s my turn.”
She looked startled and then bemused as I got up and slid off the bed to rummage in the bedside drawer. Her eyes widened as she took in what emerged from it. I stood brazen and naked before her as I pulled on the leather harness and clicked the thick red latex dildo into place. I wanted her to know what fate awaited her, to see how she was going to be taken that night. She moaned as the red latex cock quivered and bounced as I clambered onto the bed.
“Have you ever been fucked by someone who doesn’t have to stop, by something that won’t go soft?” I whispered in her ear.
I knew I had her attention. The full meaning of what I had just said was sinking in. Her eyes were riveted to that pillar of red and her thighs fell open of their own accord. She was ready.
I grabbed a fistful of her hair and thrust the dildo between her lips. She drew it into her mouth with a soft moan and began to wet it by running her lips along its length, her eyes closed in quiet bliss. The sight of the dildo emerging from her lips, wet with her spit and glistening in the light was incredibly arousing and I felt a sympathetic pulse in my clit. I had already cum tonight. I wanted now to pound her sweet little cunt, long and slow and hard, until she was reduced to a moaning quivering mass of flesh. But I wondered now if my own desire, my own hunger for her young ripe body would not overtake me and prevent me from doing just that.
I gently cupped her chin and withdrew the thick latex cock from her lips like a sword from a scabbard.
“Let me take you, sweetheart,” I whispered throatily.
It was as much a plea as a statement and she sensed the hunger in my voice.
“Oh, God, yes … please. Take me,” she moaned.
When I knelt between her legs, her hips were already weaving tight little circles in the air, eager now to be penetrated. I held the end of the dildo poised against her hungry hole and then pressed forward, burying it to the hilt in her cunt. She gasped.
I remained still for a moment to let her get used to that alien presence in her flesh and then began to thrust in and out. As I drank in the glorious vision of her naked body splayed open before me, a wave of tenderness washed over my body making me shudder. I wanted to possess completely this precious gift that I had received and to claim her in every way that a woman can be claimed. I wanted to hold her, soothe her, shield her, fuck her.
I gently took her wrists in my hands and raised them above her head. As she looked at me questioningly, I covered her palms with mine and pressed them firmly into the sheets. She smiled softly and yielded to that gentle pressure as her hips tilted upwards to meet my thrust, offering her cunt as a sweet sacrifice to my mounting lust. My hips seemed to have a life of their own, wanting to become a silken blur pounding her into submission. But I resisted the temptation and fucked in and out of her with measured slowness, wanting her to feel in the depths of her being every inch of that cock plundering her tight pussy.
As her eyes rolled back in her head and her lips began to tremble, I sensed how close she was to her climax. I removed my hands from hers and wrapped them softly around her throat. I squeezed … gently, not hard enough to suffocate her, just hard enough to make her gasp for air in urgent little sips. She opened her eyes to look at me. When she saw the infinite tenderness in my eyes and the rampant hunger, she gripped my elbows in acquiescence and her eyes softened in surrender. I fought back my tears at that sweet little gesture of trust and began to fuck her with long deep steady strokes that made her body jerk. She twitched and jerked like a rag doll when she came. I didn’t stop.
As I continued fucking her, soft noises bubbled from her throat as a second orgasm shook her and a third. I reveled in her helplessness, in the way her throat fluttered in the loving prison of my fingers, in the waves of mind numbing pleasure that washed through her flesh. I stopped only when I saw the desperate plea in her eyes and knew I had taken her to that point where pleasure becomes so intense as to be pain. She moaned as I finally withdrew from her now exquisitely sensitive cunt.
She watched me, her body twitching and jerking in the aftershocks of her release as I struggled to unscrew the latex cock from my harness. She shuddered as my fingers slipped on its slick surface, drenched with her juices. I finally wrenched it loose, stepped out of the leather harness and crawled into bed beside her.
When I drew her into my arms, she snuggled against my body and sighed softly. She seemed to be drifting off to sleep when she suddenly jerked upright. Her soft hand reached between my thighs, into the wetness of my sopping cunt.
“You didn’t cum,” she said, her eyes full of soft concern, “please … let me do you.”
“No, baby,” I moaned as her fingers trailed through my wetness, “you are exhausted.”
“I want you to sleep in my arms tonight,” I added, “and I want to ache for you all night. In the morning, I want you to spread my thighs apart and eat me out until I explode in your mouth. I want to be the first thing that you taste. Will you do that for me, baby?”
“Yes … Oh, God, yes,” she replied, shuddering as my soaking cunt kissed the soft skin of her thigh wetly.
I held her in my arms and rocked her gently as she sank into an exhausted stupor. She mumbled softly in her sleep and I wondered what dreams were playing in her head. Was she dreaming of us, of the night of passion that we had shared, of the pleasure that had seared her soul tonight? I gently brushed back behind her ear an errant wisp of golden hair which had fallen over her forehead and thought of the nights to come and the pleasure we would wring from the sweet hungry body of our new playmate.
In a week, Christine would join us in St. Tropez. I was looking forward to her arrival. She had been the first to open my eyes to the pleasures of a woman’s body and had a special place in my heart. She was arriving on her birthday and I knew the perfect gift for her — Amy, naked on our bed, spread-eagled, her delicate limbs lashed to the bedposts with silk scarves, those beautiful blue eyes covered by a blindfold. Maybe I would tie her neck in a silken bow. Gifts have to be wrapped, after all.
I would watch as Christine plundered her young flesh, wrenching moans of helpless pleasure from her shuddering lips. And then, when she was so far gone that her mind was swimming in a soup of endless bliss, I would lower myself over her beautiful face and soak her lips in my juices. A delicious little shudder ran down my spine at the thought and my pussy began to pulse.
Fortunately, I thought, I would not have to wait that long to drip my juices into her sweet mouth. I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with visions of Amy whispering my thighs apart in the morning, dipping her lips into the wet valley of my cunt and slurping my juices. I couldn’t imagine a sweeter way to wake up or a more delicious alarm clock than this golden body nestling in my arms.