“My, what a long tongue you have!”
“All the better to lick you with, my dear.”
Now go and see who else is being sinful…
I know, I know…so much for getting this one finished quickly…sorry part 2 has taken so long, dreaded Real Life and all that…Anyone that missed part one?
I blushed and slowly started unbuttoning my blouse to reveal the lace of my bra and the swell of my breasts. “Don’t stop”, she said, as I hesitated, and I meekly undid the rest of the buttons. “You have great tits”, she said admiringly, “I’d love to play with them”. The reply almost sounded as if it was from someone else’s mouth; “Why don’t you?”. To say my stomach was doing somersaults really didn’t do it justice – I don’t think I’d ever felt the same mix of nervousness and arousal.
Sarah knelt on the floor in front of me and slowly cupped my left breast. A shiver went through me as she moved her thumb in slow circling movements over the delicate fabric of my bra. Her thumb found my nipple and her forefinger moved to meet it, squeezing my nipple between her digits. She looked at me questioningly. I bit my lip, silently signalling her to continue.
She slid down the fabric of my cup and toyed with the hard bud underneath, and I gasped as her skin met mine. It felt different to a man’s touch – softer, somehow – yet the effect was the same. As my breathing grew heavier, her touch grew more forceful. Suddenly, without waiting for an invitation, she leant over and took my nipple in her mouth, gently biting it with her teeth. Her tongue swirled around my nipple, and her hand exposed my right breast. Her mouth seemed to plant butterfly kisses all over my breasts , simultaneously sucking and licking. By this point my arousal was no longer hesitant- I was completely lost in the sensation. That it was a woman giving me this pleasure simply no longer seemed relevant.
I squirmed slightly as I felt a familiar and welcome moisture seeping into the sheer fabric of my knickers. As though sensing my thoughts, Sarah stopped with her attention on my exposed breasts, and moved her hands to my knees. She looked me deep in the eyes as she slowly moved my skirt up my legs towards my hips. She paused briefly before starting to gently stroke the inside of my thigh. An involuntary cry escaped me as I willed her higher. She took her time, however, teasing me, stroking me, only causing the moistness between my legs to grow, until I wriggled so much that my skirt made its way up over my hips almost by itself. Thankful for the fact I had worn hold-ups that day, I parted my legs almost mechanically, and very gently and deliberately, she pushed my gusset to one side, exposing my wet juicy pussy to her view.
Even I could smell the warm, musky scent of my cunt – I couldn’t begin to imagine what it was doing to her as her face hovered closer. Sarah, however, was calm personified, and thoughtfully stroked my outer lips. I trembled and held my breath as her fingers pressed closer into my pussy, stroking my inner lips and circling my clit. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before – the strange familiarity of her touch, as though it was my own, mingled with the knowledge that it was a stranger’s, was driving me crazy.
When it seemed like I could barely contain my arousal, she leant forward and breathed the smallest of breaths on my swollen clit. The cooling breeze on my hot lips made me shiver involuntarily.
Sarah looked me in the eyes, arched an eyebrow and smirked as she took in my flushed cheeks, erect nipples and dripping cunt. Still wordless, she licked her lips, and bent forward to do the same to mine, running her tongue in a long, slow channel from my opening to my clit, where she lingered, gently swirling it in her mouth.
I couldn’t contain my moans any more now, and as her tongue continued to flick at my clit I grew more and more agitated, willing myself to orgasm with her face between my legs. Still licking with a steady rhythm, Sarah eased two fingers into my soaking pussy, thrusting and licking more skillfully than any man I had ever known, and I shuddered to a release right there on the toilet seat in the partner’s lavatories at work as a senior partner worked her magic.
Still wordless, Sarah waited for my shaking to subside, before moving up from between my legs and kissing me full on the mouth. The mixture of lipstick and my own juices was intoxicating, and from that moment on, I knew I was hooked.
I came round slowly , feeling slightly nauseous and disorientated. It took a minute or so for me to take stock of my situation; I appeared to be lying in a darkened room, strapped naked to some kind of bed or couch. The room felt warm and inviting – candles flickered around the edges, and soft music was playing in the background. Moving slightly against my restraints, I smiled and waited.
I did not have to wait long until a door in the far corner out of my immediate line of sight opened and I could hear footsteps and rustling. It was impossible to determine how many people had entered the room – three, maybe four? I shivered slightly despite the warmth, and could feel every hair on my body stand erect, as did my nipples.
As my eyes grew accustomed to the low light levels, I made out four masked figures approaching me, wearing what looked like hooded hotel dressing gowns. They stood in formation, two either side of the bed, and let their gowns fall to the floor. To my right stood two brunettes, one petite, small-breasted and olive-skinned, the other taller, more curvaceous with the most beautiful pale ivory skin. I smiled in recognition, but they both managed to keep their eyes firmly ahead and did not make eye contact.
To my left, a blonde woman with a nipple piercing, unknown to me, stood next to a curly-haired redhead. They too stared straight ahead, neither acknowledging me or the other women in the room, seeminly awaiting further instruction. Just then the door opened again and another hooded figure entered. My breath quickened and my heart started beating faster as I recognised the familiar build and gait.
He approached the bed and I noticed he too was wearing a mask. He produced a plastic carrier bag and handed out what appeared to be a pastry brush to each of the four women. He then proceeded to produce four pots of what looked like honey, which he put down on the bed in front of each of the women, gesturing to them to begin.
As each of the women in turn opened the pots, I held my breath, anticipating what was going to happen next. I felt the familiar swelling of the blood rushing to my pussy and almost let out an involuntary sigh. Each of the women dipped their brushes into the pots and started to paint me – starting at the end of each limb. The brushing sensation tickled my toes, and I wriggled, but the restraints that held me to the bed did not allow much escape. One by one the little pastry brushes lathered on the thick, sticky substance – on my toes and fingers, my hands and feet, then along my arms and legs.
All this time I was so preoccupied with trying to see and feel what was happening to me that I had not paid any attention to the man at the end of the bed. I became conscious of the fact that the way my legs were tied to the bed must be giving him a fabulous view of my swollen labia. I blushed at the thought of how he must be able to sense my arousal, for I could already smell the familiar musky scent of my juices myself.
His cock was already firm in his hand as he watched the scene in front of him, growing stiffer and harder as his eyes swept over my naked body, and those of the other women in the room. He stroked the shaft in the same rhythm as the women stroked my body with the hairs of their brushes.
The brushes were reaching the clefts of my limbs now – getting closer to both my naked breasts and the meeting at the tops of my legs. Cupping his balls in his hands, and pulling more firmly on his cock, I could see the tell-tale signs of arousal in the man. I knew the sight of me lying helpless, displaying my arousal to him and to four other women would turn him on so much that he was unable to delay his orgasm.
I could feel my own heart pounding as the teasing, swirling sensation of the brushes around my nipples increased my own arousal. The women had obviously been instructed to stay away from my clit though, for hard as I tried to twist and turn and maneuver myself into place to have them brush me there, they only laughed and pulled away from me.
Yanking frantically on his shaft, the man let out a series of tell-tale moans that announced his coming orgasm. Hot jets of milky cum spurted all over me, and splashed the redhead who was closest to him. The blonde woman grinned, and continued painting my nipples, mixing the milky cum in with the sticky honey. When I thought I could no longer stand the teasing, I felt two brushes finally brush the lips of my pussy. Mixing honey with my juices and the sticky semen, the women laughed and started painting faster.
Suddenly I realised it was not just brush strokes touching my body, as I felt fingers start to trace the outline of my waist and hips. I realised hands, brushes, and tongues were mixing together just like the different substances I was now covered in.They hungrily licked the honey and the cum from my body, spreading it into cracks and orifices, and delighting in removing it again.
I closed my eyes and gave in to the sensation of one mouth on each of my nipples, and different fingers probing and teasing between my legs. The feeling of both my nipples and my clit being sucked at the same time was too much for me, and my body shuddered to climax.
As the women turned their attention to each other, the man -who had stepped back to watch from the shadows – approached me again. Lifting his mask up, he kissed me long and deep on the mouth.
“Happy birthday, darling”
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A little while ago, I watched a documentary about a 17 year old thinking of “giving up” her virginity. Firstly, I have to say I was impressed with the maturity that both she and her parents approached the matter. I certainly made a few notes on how to deal with things for when my kids are old enough. Secondly, however, I have to admit that I did also find her matter-of-factness about the whole thing rather intimidating. I get the impression I spent more time fretting about whether to wear my green top or my pink top on a night out than I think she did on the whole “I’m going to go get myself laid” thing.
Anyway, I digress. We followed said teen at the end of her first “girls’ holiday” to somewhere warm and Balearic. Had she done the deed, asked the presenter? No, came the response, but she did give someone a blow job behind a nightclub – and get this; SHE WASN’T EVEN PARTICULARLY DRUNK.
I have to say I was astounded. To go from nought to blow-job in a week is certainly impressive, but it left me wondering why. Part of me understands the logic of “it’s not sex unless there’s penetration” thinking of it, yet I couldn’t help wondering what possessed an apparently reasonably intelligent young woman to suck on the first random cock that was conveniently near her mouth? There was certainly no mention of the favour having been returned at any point, for example.
Don’t get me wrong, I love sucking on a nice juicy cock as much as the next girl (maybe more, depending who she is), but I couldn’t help thinking that the order was somehow slightly wrong. You see, in my yoof, the general turn of events went something like – snogging, groping, heavy petting/fingering, penetration, and only then oral sex.
To me, there’s an added intimacy to oral sex that would mean I probably wouldn’t dream of partaking in a one-night stand, whether behind a night club or not. (I can’t be the only one thinking SWEATY, UNWASHED cock here either, can I?). Don’t even get me started on the subject of protection…at least you can demand a condom if getting properly down and dirty (and let’s face it, I don’t know anybody who has ever used a flavoured condom during a blow job).
A straw poll of…er…my hairdresser has confiremed to me that I’m not completely alone in this thinking.
Am I missing something, or just showing my age?