Lonely MILF: A Sexual Awakening
Sometimes you don’t know you’re in a rut until something happens to make it obvious.
I’m about as stereotypical as it gets.
I’m a stay at home mother, member of my two girls’ PTA, a stereotypical housewife (aka the 1950s world where the wife cleaned, cooked and the man worked), married to a husband who was more actions than words.
Truth was, I never realized this until after meeting Sam … but I was very lonely.
In retrospect, I can now say that I hid this loneliness from myself by keeping as busy as possible. In addition to doing all my household chores, I was heavily involved at my children’s school as head of the elementary school PTA, and I was a regular volunteer in the kindergarten classroom. Which is where everything changed.
I was at school helping with my daughter’s kindergarten class when I met her… Samantha. She was a first-year college student with an Education major, who was doing her required first-year classroom hours. She was an amazing young woman. Pretty, confident, friendly and sweet.
We were chatting one day a few days into her time at the school when she told me, “I’ve just got to say that for a woman with two kids, you look amazing.”
I was stunned and flattered. I literally couldn’t remember the last time my husband Jack had offered me a compliment, and for a few years now I’d been desperately trying to get his attention, which had used to be as easy as wiggling my nylon-clad toes, or walking into the bedroom in lingerie that showcased my 36C breasts.
Sex between us had never been amazing… I had never climaxed from sex with Jack… ever… and even from the very start of our relationship in high school if it lasted five minutes, including foreplay, that qualified as a marathon encounter.
My fingers and hairbrush had long been my regular finishing tools for what my husband had barely started.
I should also note that although this may seem unbelievable… especially in today’s kinky sex-obsessed world, but I had only ever been with one man… my husband. I may have kissed a few boys before dating Jack, but before him nobody had even gotten to second base with me.
I replied to Samantha, “Thank you very much.”
“You must work out,” she said, as she admired my toned legs.
“I try,” I admitted, thinking of my daily stair master routine. “The pantyhose help make my legs look more toned than they are.”
To my surprise, she placed her hand on my leg and rubbed the nylons softly, “Oh, these are nice. What brand are they?”
“Donna Karan,” I answered, a little flustered to have someone touching my leg.
“I really like the glossy shine,” she said as if she were a TV ad, giving me one more rub before moving her hand away, “it enhances your look, and makes you look really sexy.”
“Thanks,” I said, feeling my cheeks burning red from this rather harmless conversation. Clearly the lack of attention from my husband was impacting how desperately lonely I felt and how urgently I felt the need for any sort of positive attention. I pointed out, awkwardly I’m sure, “Your outfit is really cute.” I added, looking at her plaid skirt and red blouse and beige pantyhose, “I’m surprised to see you wearing pantyhose.” My words were vanilla, but behind them was a compulsive need to prolong this conversation: if I said something nice back to her, then she may say something even nicer back to me, and etcetera, and wouldn’t that be wonderful! You can see how pitiful I was.
“Why would you be surprised?” she asked.
“I’m… it’s just…” I babbled, floundering for what to say, her casual question somehow achieving monumental importance to me and requiring the ultimate in witty or insightful replies. I settled for replying lamely, “Most young people don’t think they’re fashionable.”
She shrugged and said, her soft tone shifting ever so slightly, “I’m not like most of my peers.”
“That’s good,” I laughed awkwardly.
“You’re intriguing, Elizabeth,” she said warmly, giving my leg a brief squeeze before going away to help a student with his finger painting.
Over the next couple of weeks, we chatted a few times and I couldn’t explain it, but whenever I glanced over to her, she seemed to be looking at me, or her eyes were roaming over my body. If she’d caught me looking at her, my focus would have fled instantly to some other part of the room, but whenever I caught her, she would just give me a warm, relaxed smile before eventually allowing her attention to wander someplace else.
At first I thought it was just me, but it continued to happen, and soon whenever we made eye contact she wouldn’t avert her eyes at all, as if she welcomed my knowledge that she enjoyed looking at me.
She wanted me to know that I had her attention.
I couldn’t explain it, but I felt like I was on display, and even though it was awkward, it soon became me who always broke the eye contact… I frequently looked back shortly afterwards and would feel a slight disappointment whenever she wasn’t still admiring me, although often she still was.
When we chatted, she often touched my hand or leg, and complimented me about this or that, frequently to point out some fresh aspect of my alleged beauty.
This should have disturbed me.
I was married.
I was straight.
I was a mom.
I was twenty-eight.
She was nineteen.
Yet somehow she made me feel more alive. I couldn’t explain it, but I began to like her looking at me, it even made me feel lusted after (which surprisingly made me feel warm inside instead of objectified), even though she’d never said a word to imply that she might be a lesbian or into me.
Yet, they say actions speak louder than words, and her actions kept repeating that she was attracted to me.
I began looking forward to seeing her, and I felt disappointed on the days she wasn’t there.
I started dressing a little sexier, always in nylons, since I wanted to give her more opportunities to admire and hopefully even touch my legs… even though such expectations were ridiculous. Even if she was a lesbian, I wasn’t going to do anything with her… although the thought excited me and created feelings I’d never felt before.
Samantha was pretty much the polar opposite of me:
Samantha, although she went by Sam, had dark hair; I was a blonde.
Samantha had short hair; my long hair went halfway down my back.
Samantha was 5’4″; I towered over her at 5’10”.
Samantha had small and, I assumed, perky breasts; mine were quite large 36C’s.
Samantha was slim and athletic and even a track star; I was curvy with almost no athletic ability.
Samantha was tech savvy; I was a complete tech illiterate… which is what triggered what was about to happen.
Before I get to that, I should point out that although I never fathomed ever doing anything with her for real, visualisations of her began to pop into my fantasies.
Pleasuring myself after another one of Jack’s quick cum deposits before he dropped off to sleep, I was fingering myself while still lying next to him, and I was nearing another self-induced orgasm in a lifetime of that being my only kind. Samantha’s face popped into my head and I came immediately, barely managing not to cry out her name.
So the next day on my phone I searched lesbian stories for the first time on my favourite website Literotica (I usually read gangbang stories… my secret taboo fantasy until Samantha). I found hundreds of them, so I narrowed the search to seductions. I found quite a few of those where a younger girl seduced an older woman, and I dove right in. I was reading a crazy series called Lesbian MILF Seductress, where a young and pretty girl named Bree achieved a dozen plus conquests of older women. As I read each one, I imagined I was the MILF and Samantha was Bree. (It was a bit of a stretch to imagine myself as a lady cop or as a black woman, but if I focused on their thoughts and feelings as they succumbed to this powerful young woman, I found it wasn’t a stretch at all.)
I was reading one of them about a woman celebrating her thirtieth birthday sitting in the balcony between Bree and her boyfriend at a musical, except as I imagined myself being her, I pictured myself as sitting between Samantha and my husband, while Samantha worked Bree’s magic on me. The scenario drew me in completely and got me totally horny and I closed my eyes, fingering myself to a frenzy and a glorious orgasm, imagining Samantha taking me the way Bree took whomever the eye of this story was… me… where I knew I should resist, but simply couldn’t. Since I was home by myself, I allowed myself to surrender totally to this vision just like this woman surrendered to Bree… to Samantha… in the story. I’d gotten to the point where the woman was rubbing herself furiously to a climax while Bree touched her leg and looked on from one side of her while her boyfriend gradually became aware of what she was doing from the other side. Meanwhile I was rubbing myself for real, while imagining Samantha urging me on from one side of me while my husband watched from the other, astonished that I had a sexual bone in my body that wasn’t reserved exclusively for his own pleasure. I became totally lost in this vision as I brought myself to a screaming orgasm, calling out Samantha’s name at the top of my lungs! “I’m coming for you, Samantha! Oh God, oh God!!”
As I recovered from my intense orgasm, thinking this was the second time in a row that my orgasm had erupted from a powerful image of Samantha, I realized I was going to be late getting to school.
I rushed to the school, ending up being a few minutes late.
I was only a volunteer, I wasn’t on the payroll, but still.
I was never late.
Ever.
Carol, the teacher and a friend of mine, even teased me, “Elizabeth, what could possibly have made you late?”
Instant paranoia! Do I look flustered? I asked myself. I got flustered easily.
Are my cheeks still red from those naughty stories I read and my climax with Samantha’s name on my lips? I hoped not.
Can Carol tell I just had an orgasm? I could feel some wetness in my panties, but there’s no way anyone would be able to see that.
“I-I-I just lost track of t-t-time,” I stammered awkwardly.
“I was just teasing,” she smiled.
Samantha said, “You look rejuvenated.” Oh God, Samantha’s part of this conversation too? Dare I even look at her?
“Pardon?” I asked her, blushing as I managed to meet her gaze.
“There’s something different about you right now,” she said, looking me up and down as if seeing right through me. I felt like sinking through the floor.
“There is?” I asked, feeling a chill go down my spine as she looked deep into my soul.
“Yes, but I can’t put my finger on it,” she said, looking at me, slightly perplexed as she pondered the mystery of my looks and my nervous behaviour.
A child started crying and we both went to deal with her.
Half an hour later, as the kids ran boisterously out the door to recess, and I was talking about how I get awakened all night by alerts on my phone, but I didn’t want to put it on mute and miss an important call.
“I hear there’s a way to solve that,” Carol mentioned, “although I have no idea how to do it.”
“I do,” Samantha offered.
“So I could have it so it still rings if someone calls, but it won’t bing for every text message, twitter update or Facebook message?” I asked.
“Sure, it’s easy,” Samantha said. “Let me see your phone.”
I handed it to her and she asked, “What time do you need it to go into Do-Not-Disturb mode?”
“Ten.”
“What time do you want it to turn itself back on?”
“Eight, I guess,” I said, as I noticed her intriguing cinnamon scent.
“Okay,” she said, as the school bell rang, summoning the kids back to class. “I’ll need a couple of minutes.”
“Sure,” I said.
I went to help the children again, and it was at least twenty minutes later before I glanced over to her and caught her staring at me with a slight smile on her face. As always, she continued gazing at me unapologetically.
I walked over to her and she said in a whisper, handing me back my phone, “It’s all set up for you.” (Carol was addressing the class about something, so she didn’t want to distract the children.)
“Thanks,” I whispered back, accepting it.
“By the way, I’m impressed.”
“By what?”
“I had no idea you were bi,” she said, dropping a bombshell.
“Pardon?” I gasped.
“I’ve read all the Bree stories too,” she revealed. “I love them!”
My eyes went wide.
My cheeks went red.
“If you like the silkstockingslover stories, I highly recommend Lesbian Seduction: A Stockings Tale. It too is a pretty hot story,” she continued whispering.
“Oh my God!” I gasped some more, mortified that she knew my secret obsession. Did she also know that it was because of her I was reading lesbian porn? That it was her gorgeous face and hot athletic body that inhabited all these stories for me?
“Liz,” she said, grasping my hand earnestly and shortening my name for the first time, which made me think of Bree and how she always manipulated her targets to her advantage, “there’s no shame in having fantasies.”
“It’s so embarrassing,” I breathed.
“It needn’t be; it’s natural,” she assured me, then looked at me straight in the eye with intent, or at least it felt like intent, “We all have fantasies.” She then added, “Some of us even fulfill them.”
This awkward, erotic moment was interrupted by a five-year-old asking her a question and I quickly scurried away, not sure what to say or do.
The classroom day ended, and I left immediately, taking pains to avoid Samantha.
That night though, once Jack was asleep, I hid myself in the washroom, on my phone scanning the list of sillystockingslover’s stories, trying to remember which story Samantha had mentioned.
I eventually found it and devoured it while slowly fingering myself into a frenzy.
I was getting close when I got a text message.
A text message from someone named Sam asking: Read the story?
My eyes went wide.
I didn’t know a Sam. Unless this was short for Samantha? We’d never exchanged numbers.
I considered not responding, but I was curious, and hoped it was that Sam. It had to be! Who else would ask that question?
I asked, to confirm, even though it had to be: Samantha?
She responded: Of course. I added my number to your phone and vice versa when I programmed in the Do Not Disturb.
Why would she do that?
I responded: Oh, okay.
Sam: Did you read it?
I wasn’t sure I should tell her the truth, yet I figured why not: I was just doing that now.
Sam: Oh, am I interrupting anything : )
I responded, lying: No, nothing like that.
Sam: If you say so.
I could sense that she didn’t believe me.
Sam: See you in a couple of days.
I responded: Sounds good.
I was disappointed when she didn’t send me anything else, but by then I was trying to figure out why she’d added her name.
There weren’t many logical reasons… and the most logical one was that she was interested in me. Is she? Do I really want her to be? What would I do if any of these stories became a real-life version, with me being the seduced MILF and Sam the younger seductress?
As I pondered this, I furiously fingered myself to an orgasm, imagining exactly that happening.
Of course, as soon as I came, guilt hit me. Am I shamelessly flirting with a nineteen-year-old? Fuck! I need to start acting my age.
The next evening Sam texted me again, this time while I was watching television with my husband. Although truth be told, he was on his iPad and I was reading a book while the TV droned on in the background.
Sam: What you doing?
Me: Reading.
Sam: Erotica?
Me: Grisham.
Sam: Too bad.
Me: I don’t usually read erotica.
Sam: It’s what I do to let go after a stressful day.
Me: I guess that is when I do it too.
Sam: Want to go out for breakfast tomorrow?
My eyes went wide.
Was she asking me out on a date?
Or was this just a friendly invite?
I wasn’t sure which it was, nor was I sure which I wanted it to be, but I answered yes because how would it look if I said no? There was no way I wanted to shove this girl away, even if her intentions were harmless. Or did I really mean that? Didn’t I want the opposite of harmless?
Me: Sure.
Sam: Great. How about Tiffany’s?
Me: Sure.
Sam: 9:00?
Me: Great. I’ll meet you there after I drop off the kids.
Sam: Perfect.
Me: Can’t wait.
After I sent that I quietly cursed, “Shit.”
“What?” my oblivious husband asked. I’d forgotten he was even here.
“Oh, nothing,” I lied, “just another meeting I have to attend.”
“Okay,” he said, as always not digging any deeper to see if I was actually annoyed, or inquiring what the meeting was about, or asking if I had a situation he could help me with. Fuck, I really did live in a plastic 1950s marriage.
Sam: Me too. I really would like to get to know you better.
What did that mean?
Whatever she meant, I responded with my own, if slightly garbled truth: Me too to that too.
Sam then texted back: Here is a link for a pretty hot story. If you decide you’re in the mood, read it. I was thinking of you when I read it.
I responded, curious what story would she possibly read that would have her think of me: Will do.
Sam: See you in the morning.
Me: Sounds great.
Sam: Enjoy the story.
Curious, I glanced over at my husband, who was busy playing some fighting game on his iPad, so I clicked on the link.
I barely held in a gasp when I saw the title: Becoming a Lesbian Slave. The summary described an older business woman being gradually dommed by a younger bitch.
My pussy dampened instantly.
I glanced up at my oblivious husband.
Then I began reading.
Halfway through the story, I excused myself and trotted off to the washroom… no way leaving my phone behind… my pussy on fire.
I grabbed a brush and fucked myself as I continued reading about the humiliating debauchery the older woman suffered at the hands of the younger woman.
I came so fucking hard!
As I cleaned cum off the brush under the sink, I asked myself the obvious question: Why did Samantha send me that particular story?
The obvious answer was that she was offering quite a blunt hint of her interest in me. Does she really want to seduce me? To dominate me?
And conversely, do I want to be seduced? To be dominated?
Both of these ideas startled butterflies into flying around manically inside of me and lighting a fire down below… the idea of being wanted, being used, being dominated, was a powerful stimulation… yet fantasy and reality were very different things.
When I was horny like right now, I was ready just to give in.
When I wasn’t, like half an hour later, I became frustrated at my weakness, embarrassed by my lust, and guilty about the temptation I was feeling to cheat on my husband.Yes, he was oblivious to the inner me. Yes, he hadn’t ever been overly thoughtful. Yes, he didn’t really understand my needs.
But I loved him.
And he loved me.
But was love enough?
Especially this pale variety of affection we shared, with no real depth to it and never any fireworks?
My orgasms on my own while picturing myself with Sam had been way more powerful than any of the ones I’d ever had before.
My orgasms with Jack had been… nonexistent. Nary a one. Not ever.
My libido had been awakened, and now the quick cum deposits from my husband weren’t at all fulfilling… although in all fairness they never really had been… although now that was becoming more important to me… until recently, I’d just brushed my dissatisfaction aside.
Now I wanted more.
Now I needed more.
This and many other confusing thoughts were spinning in my head the next morning as I dropped the kids off at school and returned home so I could get dressed to go and meet Samantha.
I considered dressing casually, to make a subtle statement that I wasn’t falling under her spell and that I wanted no more than friendship from her. Instead I did the opposite, bedecking myself in a short, formfitting dress with a provocative neckline and sheer beige nylons: a fashion statement that while tasteful, really showcased all my assets.
I arrived early and waited, trying to be patient.
I fidgeted for what felt like forever although it was only about five minutes, and she arrived precisely at nine, dressed in what could only be described as ‘Holy fuck’. She had on a white blouse, a plaid skirt and mocha coloured pantyhose, and she looked utterly beautiful.
She looked me up and down with an appreciative smile, sat down and said, “You look very pretty today.”
“You look like every boy’s dream come true,” I countered.
“How about every woman’s dream come true?” she asked bluntly, making my cheeks burn red.
“I imagine that’s also true,” I agreed.
The waitress showed up to take our orders, interrupting the shy awkwardness I was feeling.
When she left, Samantha gushed, “I’m so happy you agreed to meet me.”
“I’m flattered you invited me,” I replied, then wondered why I used the word ‘flattered’.
“Do you know why I asked you here?” she asked.
“Honestly, I don’t,” I deflected, which was partly true and yet partly not. I had a pretty good hunch why she’d invited me, but what if I was wrong?
“Be honest,” she said, looking into me with those sultry eyes, “you do know, don’t you?”
“I have an idea, but I might be wrong,” I admitted, shyly, sheepishly, yet totally honestly.
“Do you like your idea?” she asked, neither confirming nor denying my assumptions, my hopes, only making me feel more insecure.
I answered nervously, “Yes and no.”
“How so?” she asked, “please explain,” gazing right into my soul.
“Um… I… um…” I stammered, totally not knowing what to say… fearful that if I blurted out how she affected me I might be rebuffed, yet if I offered something about wanting a platonic friendship she might see it as my rebuffing her… I knew what I wanted to say, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure that saying it wouldn’t be a disaster.
“Did you read the story I sent you?” she asked, helping me out.
“Yes.”
“What did you think of it?” she asked.
“It was… interesting,” I answered, which was a vague and cowardly answer, I know.
“How was it interesting?” she asked, continuing to ask me questions I found awkward to answer.
“Seeing how the strong woman weakened… I guess,” I answered timidly.
“I see,” she said nodding, then looking thoughtful for a few seconds.
She then said abruptly, placing her nylon-clad and shoeless feet on my lap beneath the table. “Go ahead, massage my feet for me, Liz.”
My eyes went wide.
That line was right out of the stories.
I was indeed the older woman being seduced, and she the younger seductress.
This was the moment.
I knew it was.
Even though this overture wasn’t overtly sexual… it was a test.
If I complied with her request, I’d become drawn into her powerful web of seduction and it would only be a matter of time before it got more complicated.
If I declined right now, it would likely end right here before it’d really gotten started.
She encouraged me, as if reading my mind, as if knowing the internal struggle I was having with myself, “Go ahead, Liz, massage my feet.”
Deciding to ignore my own theory, deciding this wasn’t any such significant moment, I’d just thought it was, I took her left foot into my hand. (In retrospect, I realize I hadn’t truly thought any such thing, I’d just told myself that so I could hide from myself the life-altering decision I’d just made.)
“Thank you. So back to the story, what did you like the most about it?” she asked.
“Honestly?” I asked, knowing now with one hundred percent confidence she was seducing me, and now trying to process how much I actually wanted to be seduced. (Like I just said: in this case retrospect wasn’t long in coming, but I’d made my choice and I refused to regret making it, as I allowed myself to be led into my new future.)
“Yes, Liz,” she said softly. “Tell me how it made you feel.”
“Those are two different questions,” I joked, trying to make this awkward and yet exciting conversation appear to be more normal.
“True enough,” she laughed softly, just as the waitress arrived with our coffees, glancing down and seeing me massaging Sam’s foot.
My red face went redder as the waitress gave me a look with an arched eyebrow, but she didn’t say anything before walking away. I got embarrassed easily and hated ever to make a scene. Truth was I was very passive, which was proven by the fact I was obediently massaging a teenager’s feet in a restaurant.
“So, let’s go ahead with how it made you feel,” Sam encouraged me, not at all fazed by the waitress’s obvious knowledge of the massage.
“Horny.” I decided to answer bluntly.
“And what got you horny?’ she asked smoothly like a therapist would do, not at all surprised by my answer.
“I don’t know,” I said, which was mostly a lie and yet kind of true.
“I think you do know,” she said, as I switched to massaging her other foot. “I won’t judge you, so don’t worry and just tell me what’s in your head.”
“It was just kind of hot,” I said, trying to avoid personal answers.
“What made it hot? What made you see it that way?” she asked, shepherding me back towards personal.
“It really got me going to see the power the younger girl exerted over the older woman,” I answered, which was completely true.
“Thank you: that was an honest and direct reply. Did you see yourself as the older woman?”
“Kind of,” I prevaricated.
“Not direct at all that time, but ‘kind of’ is a yes,” she asserted.
“Yes, you’re right; I was the older woman,” I admitted, “and… you were the… the… other one,” I finished, unable bring myself to say the powerful one, which would have been even more honest. My face was burning in embarrassment and I wanted to run away and hide. My pussy was burning with excitement, wanting to succumb right here and now. These polar opposite feelings seemed rather parallel to the older woman’s in the story.
“Have you ever been with a woman?” The question was quiet and low key, as if she were gentling a nervous and excitable filly being trained to a halter for the first time.
“No,” I admitted.
“But you’re curious to explore?” she asked serenely.
“Somewhat,” I answered, which was a fair answer. When I was horny, like now, God yes; when I wasn’t horny, which seemed to be the case less and less in the past several days, God no.
I should note that until recently sex was never that important to me.
I sucked cock sometimes; I got fucked sometimes; I got myself off sometimes; that was the extent of it. My sexually boring husband was a perfect match for me.
I was now realizing it had been an act.
A means to an end.
I hadn’t ‘wasted my time’ fantasizing too often.
I’d seldom been so horny I just had to get fucked by Jack (useless) or get myself off (usually not much better).
In truth, I had pleasured myself more times in this last several weeks than during the prior six months, easily.
“What does ‘somewhat’ mean?” she asked.
“This conversation is getting awkward,” I finally pointed out.
“If you don’t want to continue with it, I’ll stop asking you questions,” she offered, which surprised me. In the stories, the seductress is a predator that attacks her prey’s weaknesses. She then added, “But I think you want to answer these questions, don’t you, my pet?”
There it was.
The real intention.
The term used in so many of the lesbian stories I’d recently read.
A term that established a sexual hierarchy.
A term that clarified her true intent.
A term that had wetness literally gushing into my panties.
“It’s just awkward to talk about,” I finally admitted.
“I know it is,” she nodded, “but only through discussion can you explore what you’re really feeling inside.”
“I guess,” I said.
“Can I ask you a frank question?”
“So far hasn’t been frank?” I asked with a smirk, getting more relaxed with the conversation.
“Okay,” she laughed, “fair enough. Can I do something rather forward?”
“Sure,” I said, curious what she could do that would be considered ‘rather forward’. The answer came a moment later as she reached her stockinged foot under my dress and placed it directly on my wet crotch. I moaned on contact.
“Why are you so wet?” she asked, as her foot remained on my pussy.
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“Yes, you do,” she said, tapping my pussy with the ball of her foot three times.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, my pussy being touched for the first time ever by someone other than my husband.
This was definitely the moment.
Of course, I didn’t push it away like a good wife would.
I spread my legs a tad wider and just enjoyed the unaccustomed pleasure… which was happening with two older women chatting just across the aisle from us… luckily oblivious.
“I’ve never felt like this before,” I finally answered. She hadn’t asked me a question, but I couldn’t just sit there and pretend she was having no effect on me.
“And how do you feel? Not at the moment, but recently?” she asked, slowly moving her foot in a circular motion.
“Horny all the time,” I admitted with another soft moan.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because of you,” I blurted out, just as the waitress arrived and we let those words linger in the air.
She smiled, leaving her foot resting on my pussy as the waitress set out our food and refilled our coffees.
Once we were alone again, she took a bite of her pancake before asking, “Why me specifically?”
I was hungry and needed to eat, but I also felt compelled to answer the question, even though I was risking the possibility of some very painful rejection, “I don’t know. You’re pretty, you wear nylons, you seem to be into me, you turn me on…” I paused before I added, hoping to lighten the mood, “and your foot is resting on my pussy.”
“Do you want me to move it?” she asked, as she moved her foot up and down, bringing me new pleasure.
“Definitely not,” I moaned in response.
“Did you have any lesbian fantasies before meeting me?” she asked, teasing my pussy ever so lightly, as I reached for my fork.
“No,” I admitted.
“I’m flattered,” she smiled, as I cut into a sausage and wondered whether I was doing something symbolic.
“I don’t know how, but you awakened a side of me I didn’t know existed,” I admitted, figuring there was no point in holding anything back anymore. From the moment she’d arrived this morning, her demeanor had communicated nothing but kind and knowledgeable encouragement, without a hint of judging me, except perhaps for when I wasn’t being totally open and honest.
“What side is that?” she asked.
“My bisexual side,” I answered, before adding, disparaging my husband, “or perhaps my desire-to-have-orgasms side.”
“Let me guess,” she said, as I ate a sausage, realizing the irony of cutting a sausage in pieces, “your husband doesn’t get you off.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I admitted.
“And he doesn’t go down on you,” she correctly assumed.
“Once a year, for an entire minute.”
“Have you ever come from sex?”
“Not unless I was alone,” I answered.
She sighed.
“Not even earlier boyfriends?”
“Jack is the only man I’ve ever been with,” I said, before adding, “the only person, actually.”
“Oh my,” she said, this being the first thing I’d confessed that had surprised her.
“I know,” I said, knowing how rare it was only to have been with one person during your entire life.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, each of us in deep thought. She seemed to be pondering my various revelations, I was trying to eat while ignoring the foot resting, but no longer moving, on my pussy.
As she finished eating she moved her foot away, which was a great disappointment, and said, “Eat up, you’re coming to my place.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes,” she nodded, in a tone forbidding any discussion on the matter. She waved the waitress over and said, “Check… now, please.”
The waitress went away, and she placed her foot back onto my pussy and relented; I was allowed to make up my own mind, “You do want to come back to my place, don’t you?”
A chance to back out.
Another moment.
This one likely the point of no return.
“Yes,” I admitted, “yes, I do,” after a very brief contemplation.
“You’ve read some stories: do you understand what coming back to my place means?” she asked, rubbing my pussy again.
“Yes, I believe I do,” I answered, assuming it meant the obvious.
“Say the words. What does it mean?” she asked, putting extra pressure on my pussy.
“It means that I’ll become your pet,” I answered, my body making my decisions for me.
“That’s correct. And how does that make you feel?” she asked, enjoying forcing me to open up about exactly how I felt.
“Excited,” I answered, before adding, “and guilty… and horny… and embarrassed… and horny and… umm… humiliated.”
“You said horny twice,” she pointed out.
“Well, I’m really horny,” I admitted with a wicked smile.
“Still want to come?”
“God, yes.”
“Fuck yourself on my foot.”
“Really? Here?” I asked, looking around nervously.
“Right here, right now,” she ordered, not in a harsh way but nevertheless stating a requirement, rubbing her foot in a stimulating circular motion on my pussy.
There were a million reasons why I should have refused, but those were all superseded by the one reason I decided to obey… Desperation. I was desperate to cum, desperate to obey.
I held my hand on her foot to steady it, and began grinding up and down on it, no longer concerned about the older women to my left.
“That’s it my pet,” she encouraged me, “just close your eyes, obey and let go.”
I obeyed and moaned a little louder than I meant to, just closing my eyes and allowing my submissive nature and my lustful desires to take control of me.
I’d already been pretty close from our conversation, from my revelations and from her constant foot teasing, so it didn’t take long for my orgasm to build to a climactic conclusion.
“Come for me, my pet,” she purred, knowing I was epically close.
“Oh God,” I moaned, biting my lip not to cry out as my orgasm hit me just a few seconds later.
“Oh, my,” the waitress gasped, arriving just at my moment of climax. She asked, as I kept coming and couldn’t open my eyes, “Will there be anything else, ladies?” She was unable to keep the quaver out of her voice.
Sam answered, “No, we’ll have dessert back at my place.”
“O-o-okay,” the waitress responded, frazzled.
“Pay her, my pet,” Samantha ordered me, forcing me to open my eyes and look up at this waitress with the bright red face who just had witnessed my humiliating act.
I opened my eyes, and feeling compelled to show both Sam and the waitress that I wasn’t ashamed and that I understood my place, I responded with a smile, fending off my insecurities and embarrassment, “Yes, Mistress.”
I reached inside my purse, pulled out my credit card and handed it to the shell-shocked waitress.
“Thank you, ma’am,” she said, accepting it. “I’ll be right back.”
“Mistress, eh?” Sam smiled, once we were alone again.
“Sorry, it just popped out.”
“No, I like it,” she nodded. “I’m also impressed by your lack of embarrassment.”
“I can’t explain it,” I said, “but doing as I was told, getting caught in the act of coming not by my choice but yours, and accepting who I am, seemed to dissipate all those worries.”
“I see,” she smiled. “Well, let’s go back to my place and really break down the barriers.”
“Yes, Mistress,” I agreed.
“How big is your husband?” she asked.
“I don’t know… five inches maybe.”
“No wonder he never made you come,” she said, looking mortified.
“Maybe it would have worked sometimes, but he also only lasts a couple of minutes,” I admitted, enjoying disparaging my husband to her… I’d never before had a viable outlet to vent to.
“Well, you’re in for a treat today,” she said, smiling as the waitress arrived.
“Yes, Mistress, I can’t wait,” I said, loud enough for the waitress to hear, as I took the bill and signed it.
“Let’s go, my pet,” Sam said, as I handed the bill back to the waitress.
“Yes, Mistress,” I repeated, standing up, this time loud enough for the older two women who had recently begun looking over here a bit to listen as well. Feeling so liberated, I bragged openly, “I came so hard, I dribbled right through my panties and pantyhose.”
“And all over my foot,” Sam added with a laugh, as she took my hand and I winked at the three mortified women.
I don’t know why I said it, but I stopped at the elder ladies’ table and said, “You two would likely be liberated if you just went back to one of your places and 69’d.”
“Disgusting,” one gasped while the other’s face went red.
I added, pointing to the red-faced woman, “Looks like she’s up for it.”
I resumed walking as Sam said, “I think I may have created a monster.”
“I don’t know why I did that,” I admitted, although not feeling guilty like I normally would for such an inappropriate act.
“Your awakening is definitely under way,” she said, as we walked out to the street hand in hand.
“I feel liberated,” I declared, as I followed her to the parking lot.
“We’re going in my car,” she informed me.
“Okay,” I said, happy to follow her anywhere. For the first time since these crazy orgasms had begun a couple of weeks ago there was no post orgasmic guilt, only excitement for what was to come.
In the car she asked, “How did it feel to come in public like that? With people watching?”
“At the moment of orgasm I forgot I was in public,” I admitted.
“And when you realized you’d been caught?” she asked.
“I should have been mortified, I should have had a wave of guilt course through me, but all I felt was liberation,” I explained. ‘Liberation’ was the only word that really seemed to explain my 180° mental flip flop.
“How was the orgasm?” she asked.
“Oh God! My most intense ever!” I admitted, that being the complete truth and the closest I’d ever gotten to coming from sex.
Had I come from sex?
Was humping a foot considered sex?
I thought it was.
“Your husband doesn’t understand what an amazing woman you are,” she said.
“Most of the time I feel he’s convinced me that I’m not,” I said, with a little sigh.
“You deserve better,” she said, as after only a couple-minute drive, we were pulling into the college dorm’s parking lot.
My eyes went wide.
“Don’t worry, almost everyone is in class,” she said.
“Shouldn’t you be?” I asked.
“Yes, but this is more important,” she said, getting out of the car.”Okay,” I said, flattered and yet feeling a bit of insecurity at the prospect of walking hand in hand with a student on campus… not that I expected to meet anyone I knew… I knew hardly anyone in the city.
I got out too and wasn’t surprised at all when she took my hand. It felt so right and so nice to have her fingers entwined with mine… just one more thing my husband never did… although his hands were big and rough while Samantha’s were small and soft, so it wouldn’t have been the same… today it was like two puzzle pieces finally matching each other and connecting.
We walked past some students, each of them giving us a look. I wasn’t sure if it was because we looked like lesbians, or because I was tall and she was short, or because we were both dressed pretty hot.
I didn’t care.
I was glowing in the moment.
We entered her building, entered a stairwell and began climbing, when she suddenly stopped one stair above mine, pushed me against the wall and kissed me.
Her act was so dominant.
Her lips were so soft.
Two contrasting experiences combining to make sense, if only emotional sense.
Her tongue parted my lips and explored.
Mine parted hers and explored.
Two tongues sharing a primitive dance of lust.
When she broke the kiss, she smiled and said, “God, I can’t wait to fuck you.”
“Oh my,” I smiled, the words making me gush again down below.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Elizabeth?” she asked me as her hand reached under my dress and went directly to my soaking wet crotch.
“Never more desperately than right now,” I answered, breaking a stereotype by looking down submissively into her piercing eyes, finding it so surreal that this small woman had such power over me… with our six-inch height difference… likely eight now, with my taller four-inch heels.
She took my hand and led me up the rest of the stairs and to her dorm room.
She unlocked the door and gestured me inside.
Once we were inside she led me into what was a tiny suite, there was a small living room with kitchenette, and two bedrooms… which made me assume that she had a roommate.
Arriving in her room, she immediately pushed me onto her bed, ripped my pantyhose at the crotch, tugged my panties aside and dove her face into my pussy.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, stunned by her hunger, stunned by her forceful actions.
“Such a tasty twat,” she purred between her aggressive licks.
“So good,” I mindlessly moaned, my head going light from the pleasure.
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AND NOW DEAR READER, FOR YOUR CHOICE: CHOOSE YOUR ADVENTUROUS ENDING.
ENDING 1: Plot twist ending… Happy April Fool’s Day… will continue immediately. lol).
ENDING 2: Lesbian lick and fuck fest… will continue after the conclusion of Ending 1
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ENDING 1: Plot Twist Ending
“So Liz, are you ready to be fucked?” she asked, looking up at me.
“God, yes,” I answered, looking down at her face between my legs.
“Mine is a lot bigger than your husband’s,” she warned, kissing my thigh.
“It had better be,” I hoped, desperate to have her cock inside me… even if it wasn’t flesh and blood.
“Want to get it ready for your tight pussy?
“Yes, please let me suck your cock,” I begged, figuring no matter which brand it was, it couldn’t be anything but an improvement on my husband’s.
She moved her pelvis up to my face, unveiled her skirt, and gave me the biggest shock of my life.
Where I was expecting to see either a ripe pussy or perhaps even a cunningly attached strap-on, was a big, fat cock… a real, throbbing, big, fat cock. “Oh my,” I gasped in shocked awe while staring at a big, fat and very real cock.
“You like?” she asked as I stared in a stunned daze.
I sat up and stroked it, this being a very pleasant surprise, “Very, very much so.”
“Suck it, my sexy pet,” she ordered.
“I haven’t sucked Jack’s for a long time,” I warned, “and his is nowhere near this big.”
“Well, practice makes perfect.”
“You’re going to want me to suck and do whatever with this big fat cock all the time?” I asked, licking down her long shaft, getting completely turned on by this big, fat cock attached to this diminutive, assertive woman.
“Only if you want to,” she moaned, as I stared at her cock, lost in admiration.
“Oh, I know I’ll want to,” I said, licking back up her cock and taking it in my mouth.
“Oh yes,” she moaned, encouraging me… already having spoken more words than my husband had during a lifetime of sexual encounters, which had almost always consisted of complete silence followed by a grunt at the last moment.
I bobbed on just her first couple of inches, getting used to having a cock in my mouth again… a cock that was not only much longer than my husband’s, but also a lot thicker… stretching my mouth wide open.
“Oh yeah, Liz, you look so hot with your mouth wrapped around my cock,” Sam encouraged.
“It’s so big,” I said, taking it out of my mouth for a moment but still stroking it.
“I know,” she nodded, looking down at me. “Some women can’t handle it.”
“I’ll handle it or die trying,” I promised, completely enamoured with her massive stick.
“It would be a great way to die,” she laughed.
“Fucked to death by a massive hammer would be the way to go,” I laughed back, before taking it back in my mouth.
“Oh fuck, I’ve been looking forward to those lips wrapped around my cock since I first met you,” she revealed.
“You have?” I asked, looking up at her, surprised by her words.
“Oh yes, Liz,” she said as I stroked her cock, “you’re fucking beautiful.”
“I haven’t been told that in years,” I said before taking it back in my mouth, wanting to reward her for her flattery.
“Stick with me and I’ll tell you every day,” she pledged as I bobbed.
I moaned in response and began bobbing faster, began taking more of her in my mouth. I could deep throat Jack’s five inches rather easily, but this eight-inch cock was a lot more challenging.
“I can’t wait any longer,” she said as she pulled out and moved back between my legs.
“You can come in my mouth,” I offered, something I never allowed Jake to do. “Or all over my face,” I added, another thing Jake wasn’t allowed to do. Perhaps I was a bit of a prude for Jake… any of those prudish thoughts hadn’t even made it to the starting gate with Samantha… or rather Sam.
“Oh, over time I plan to come in all your holes and all over your body,” she promised, foreshadowing my anal virginity would be taken too… also a no entry zone… and although I couldn’t fathom that large cock possibly fitting in my back door, I couldn’t imagine denying her anything she wanted from me.
“Oh yes, make me your slut,” I moaned, as I spread my legs wide as she rubbed her cock up and down my pussy lips. A dirty term I would never use about myself… until now.
“Tell me what you want,” she growled, looking down at me.
“I want to be fucked by your big fat cock,” I growled back urgently. “I want you to use me as your MILF slut.”
“You are a hot fucking MILF,” she agreed, as she tapped my clit with her fat cock head, making my legs twitch.
“Slam that big cock in my CUNT!” I begged, a word I’d never used in my life.
“You sure?” she asked, driving me to the brink of madness. I’d never known I could need a cock so bad.
“God, yes, I’ve never needed to be fucked this badly in my life.” I pleaded, lifting my ass up, trying to get her cock into me.
“So eagerly desperate,” she smiled, loving my writhing frank.
“So desperate! Now PLEASE fuck me with your big cock,” I begged, just before she slid it inside me. “Oh yes!” I moaned loudly, not worried about the silence and discretion I’d needed at the restaurant.
“How do you feel now?” she asked, as her entire cock filled me like I’d never been filled.
“So full,” I moaned, looking up at her with grateful lust.
“You’re so vulnerable right now, and it makes you so beautiful,” she said, looking down at me.
“Thank you, my love,” I said, as I wrapped my legs around her and pulled her face down to kiss me.
As we kissed, she began slowly fucking me.
It felt like heaven.
She broke the kiss after an intimate minute and asked, “Are you okay that I don’t have a pussy?”
“For you I was ready to explore eating my first pussy, but this is the best of both worlds,” I replied earnestly. “I get to love on your beautiful feminine face and body, but I still get the big cock I’ve always wanted inside me.”
She leaned up a bit and unbuttoned her blouse while still fucking me. I watched in awe, never having cared about a woman’s breasts before (they were just something every woman had… I’d seen hundreds of pairs in the gym alone)… but now I was dying to see hers.
She tossed away her blouse and unclasped her bra.
I said, “They’re so perky.”
“Now you,” she said, so I squirmed around on my back and awkwardly tugged off my dress with some help from her… her wonderful cock moving around inside me.
I sat up and she leaned around and unclasped my bra, releasing my big tits from captivity.
“They’re so big,” she said, staring at them with the same awe so many boys and men had before her. Except that apart from Jack, she was the first person getting to stare at them unadorned!
“Please suck on them,” I offered.
“Thanks, I think I will,” she agreed, as I lay back down and she leaned down and sucked on my hard nipples.
“Mmmmmm,” I moaned, as her cock remained deep inside me, not moving.
She swirled her tongue around my nipples.
She sucked on them.
She bit them.
It drove me wild.
But what I really wanted was to get fucked.
I begged, “Please Sam, please fuck me.”
“Sorry baby, I got distracted by these big puppies,” she apologised, leaning back and resuming fucking me.
“Yes, that’s so good,” I moaned, as her cock began pounding me hard.
My orgasm was rising quickly.
Suddenly she pulled out and said, “Sorry, cramp.”
I laughed, “That’s a new one.”
“Sorry,” she repeated, as she kicked her leg around, making her big cock flail around like she was king of the jungle.
After she settled down I urged her, “Lie down, it’s time for me to go for a ride.”
“Mmmmm,” she said, as she lay on her back, “and I can watch those puppies bounce.”
“They do have a mind of their own,” I warned, as I gazed down at her erect missile, waiting to be devoured.
But first I leaned down and sucked it… tasting myself on her cock.
“Mmmmm, I love your mouth on my cock,” she moaned.
“And I love it in my cunt,” I said after thirty seconds or so of cock sucking, before I sat up and straddled her throbbing rod.
I lowered myself onto it, taking it all inside me. “Oh, God,” we both moaned simultaneously.
“So full,” I moaned, this position reaching new depths inside me I’d never experienced.
“Ride it, sexy,” she ordered softly, reaching up and cupping my tits.
“Mmmmmm,” I moaned, as I began slowly riding her big cock.
“So hot,” she moaned, as she squeezed my tits and looked up at me.
“So fucking good,” I replied, wanting to make sure she knew I was enjoying this, although my moans should have been communicating that very clearly.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, like always, wanting to get inside my head.
“So good,” I answered.
“Tell me more, describe your feelings,” she said languorously, squeezing both my nipples.
“All I can say is… it’s like I’ve died and gone to fuck heaven,” I answered, a lame description but the truth… this was what sex was supposed to be.
Lengthy.
Intimate.
Intense.
Orgasmic.
My orgasm building after a couple minutes of slow riding, she laid her hands back down and ordered, again softly, “Now fuck yourself hard and get yourself off, my sexy MILF slut.”
I wanted nothing more than to be a slut and so I obeyed, beginning to bounce on her cock like I was on a trampoline.
“Oh yes,” we again both moaned, as the sexual pleasure intensified for both of us.
She was staring at my tits, which were bouncing around in all directions, something my husband used to be captivated by.
“Fuck,” I moaned, knowing my orgasm was coming soon.
“Oh yes, my sexy slut, come on my cock,” she encouraged.
My breathing became erratic, my body tightened, and I screamed a moment later, “Fuck!”
I collapsed forward, my breasts falling onto her face, as she began bucking her ass up to continue fucking me as I came, while also sucking on my left breast.
“Fuck,” I repeated, this easily the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced… like I’d reached infinity. I didn’t want it to end.
Suddenly, even as my orgasm continued sending waves of pleasure through me two entire minutes after my apocalyptic euphoria had burst forth, she pulled out, smoothly flipped me onto my back, and slid her cock between my tits… and tit fucked me.
I squeezed my tits together and purred, “Yes, baby, fuck my tits.”
“Oh, God,” she groaned, obviously close. “I’m going to come.”
“Come all over my tits and face,” I invited, dying to feel her warm cum spraying onto me as she fucked my tits, looking so hot as she did so.
“Oh fuck,” she grunted a few pumps later, as I pulled my tits apart from each other and watched her cock explode and her cum rocket soar directly between my eyes and onto my forehead.
“Yes my love, shoot your cum all over me,” I moaned, loving the hot wetness of her cum.
She kept stroking her cock as rope after rope splattered against me.
Rope two hit my nose and some went into my open mouth.
Rope three plopped on my chin.
For the last couple of ropes, she aimed her cannon downwards and spewed them between my tits.
She then leaned forward and kissed me.
When she broke the kiss, I said with a wide grin, “That, my dear Mistress, was life changing!”
“You’re my little slut now,” she smiled.
“Anytime,” I agreed, knowing there was no way I could ever refuse her or her cock.
She looked at the clock and smiled, “I think we have time for round two.”
“You’re insatiable, and I love it,” I purred, before she slid her cock back into my mouth for what would be marathon fuck session in a dozen positions (ten more than Jack and I ever did in one session an nine which we had never done before… my body being twisted, turned and pounded in wild, kinky ways) and multiple orgasms for me and one more for her as I fell completely in lust with her.
THE END OF PLOT TWIST ENDING…
AND NOW…
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ENDING 2: Lesbian lick and fuck fest
After a minute or so of licking my wet pussy, she sat back up and ordered, “Don’t move.”
“I’m not sure I can anyway,” I said, my legs spread across her small twin bed. A reminder that I was in a teenager’s room and not on my own king-sized bed.
She went to a dresser and pulled out a strap-on cock. I watched her pull down her skirt to reveal that her pantyhose were crotchless… and I could clearly see her shaved pussy. Shit, I should shave mine for her.
I watched her fasten the harness around her waist, and gasped as I saw the cock pointing at me. It was much bigger than my husband’s!
She smiled as she saw me watching her, the same avid way she watched me in class, and asked, “Still want my cock?”
“I’m ready for anything you want to dish out,” I answered, admiring her beauty.
“Mmmmmm,” she purred, as she walked over to the bed and ordered, “get out of that dress.”
I sat up and did just that.
“And let’s see those big tits I’ve imagined sucking on for all these weeks.”
“These old things?” I questioned coyly as I unclasped my bra and tossed it aside. My husband used to love my tits, but he’d been ignoring them for the past few years like he was ignoring everything else. So it was great to see the lust and fascination Samantha was showing me.
“They’re so big,” she cooed, moving closer to me and cupping them.
“Suck on my nipples,” I begged, loving to have my sensitive nipples played with. I had to wear a quality bra, because my nipples were easily stimulated and when they were erect, they could poke through… unpadded bathing suits were always a nightmare (and with my rack, padded ones were just silly).
“I think I will,” she agreed, bending down and taking my left nipple into her mouth.
“Mmmmmm,” I moaned, “yes, suck on it.”
She swirled her tongue around my nipple, tugged on it with her teeth, swirled her tongue around it some more and then sucked the entire nipple into her mouth.
She didn’t play with my tits or manhandle them like Jack did (or rather used to), she worshipped them.
She moved to my other, until now neglected nipple and replicated the extensive attention, spending over five minutes on my breasts… which had my pussy on fire.
“Ready to get fucked?” she asked again.
“God, yes,” I answered, truly never wanting to get fucked more in my life.
“Get on all fours,” she ordered.
“My favourite position,” I said, quickly getting into the position.
She moved behind me and rubbed my pussy with her cock, making me moan.
“Fuck, are you wet,” she acknowledged.
“You have me a muddled mess,” I admitted.
“Tell me what you want,” she said as she teased my cunt.
“For you to fuck me like a cheap slut,” I answered, wanting to get really pounded.
“So you want to be my slut?”
“God, yes,” I admitted, “And even more, I want to do whatever you tell me to.”
“Mmmmmmm,” she purred, as she slid inside me.
“Oh fuck, yes,” I moaned loudly, as my cunt was filled more completely than it had ever been before.
“So I can fuck my slut anytime I want?” she asked, giving me three deep thrusts.
“Yessssssss!” I agreed.
“And I can text you and you’ll hurry over and eat my cunt?” she asked, three more deep thrusts.
“Yes,” I again agreed, realizing I still hadn’t had the opportunity to do that.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned, as she started fucking me hard.
“Oh yes, fuck your slut,” I begged, my orgasm, my second, already building rapidly.
“Tell me what you are,” she ordered as she slammed into me.
“I’m a slut, your slut,” I declared, willing to do anything to be her slut.
“What else?”
“I’m your cunt licking lesbian,” I added, telling her what I longed for.
“So you want to taste my cunt?”
“God, yes,” I admitted, my orgasm so close.
“I’m going to have you eating my cunt in the bathroom at school,” she warned, slamming into me.
“Oh God,” I moaned, the idea so wrong and so naughty, and yet driving me closer to rapture.
“I’ll have you wear my cunt cum all over your face,” she continued, able to last so much longer than my husband.
“Oh yes, I want you to humiliate me,” I agreed, loving the wild kinkiness she was describing.
“Now come, my sexy slut,” she ordered, knowing I was imminently close.
“Oh yes… fuck… yes,” I babbled, as I closed my eyes and just let my body go.
“Right now, slut!” she demanded, her tone dominant.
“Yes, Mistress!” I screamed as my orgasm hit.
She kept slamming into me throughout my orgasm as it swept through me like a tornado ripping through a trailer park.
My body was still trembling a couple minutes later when she pulled out, my cum gushed out of me, she flipped me over and straddled me as she tossed away her harness.
She asked, looking down at me, “Hungry?”
“I definitely need to replenish myself with some liquid,” I answered awkwardly.
“You’re such a geek,” she laughed, as she lowered her shaved pussy onto my face.
Her pussy was wet.
Her scent was sweet.
Her taste, as I began licking, heavenly.I lapped, parting her smooth pussy lips.
She moaned, as she began grinding her pussy on my face, “Lick my cunt, my sexy slut.”
I had no choice as she moved her pussy up and down on me… her wetness coating my entire face.
It was so hot… just to be used by her.
It was only a couple of minutes before she grabbed the back of my head, pulled me deeper into her wetness and really rubbed her cunt against my face.
“I’m about to come,” she announced just before a massive gush of wetness coated my face.
It was exhilarating as I did my best to catch all her cum.
I lapped up as much as I could, but I think I ended up wearing more than I tasted.
Once she was done, she slid herself back to my waist and said, “Sorry, I was just so fucking horny.”
“Please don’t be sorry, it was really hot,” I replied, as I sat up, moved us both closer to the headboard and pushed her onto her back.
She looked at me peculiarly as I moved my face between her legs and said, “Now with your permission dear Mistress, I want to really explore your pussy and savour your taste at length.”
“Mmmmm,” she said, gazing down at me. “You do look good coated in my cunt cum and lying between my legs.”
“I think it’s a position I could be in a lot,” I smiled, offering myself to her anytime, anyplace.
“I imagine I can make that a reality for you… for us,” she smiled back, before I resumed licking her pussy. This time I was in control and could explore the tantalizing teen pussy in all its sweet glory.
I could take my time.
Explore.
Admire.
Pleasure.
She leaned back and allowed me to pleasure her.
I swirled my tongue around her clit.
I wiggled my tongue between her pussy lips.
I sucked on her swollen clit.
I listened to her sweet moans.
I felt her hands go through my hair.
I was completely enthralled by this long-lasting act.
By her sweet scent.
By her naughty nectar.
By her captivating cunt.
After ten minutes of exploring I slid my finger inside her as her breathing began to increase.
“Oh yes, finger fuck me,” she moaned.
“I love your cunt, Sam,” I moaned to her, as I multi-tasked, pleasing her inside and out.
“I love your tongue, my cunt licking slut,” she moaned, which turned me on even more.
“Mmmmmm,” I moaned in return.
“Two fingers,” she demanded.
I obeyed, easily sliding a second finger inside.
After another few pumps she demanded, surprising me, “Shove your entire fist in my cunt, slut.”
“Really?”
“Yes, damn it! Just shove it in and fist fuck me!” she demanded.
“Okay,” I said, and was surprised when my entire fist succeeded in disappearing inside of her.
“Oh fuck, that’s good,” she screamed, “now fist fuck me hard.”
“Okay,” I repeated as I pumped my entire forearm in and out of her… wondering what that would feel like.
“Yes, mother fucker,” she screamed a few seconds later as her second orgasm cascaded through her.
I kept pumping for a few more seconds before I pulled my hand out and caught the massive gush that exploded out of her and all over my face.
I lapped up her juices as her body trembled with bliss.
After a couple of minutes, she pulled me up and kissed me, then began licking all over my drenched face. “Fuck, do I taste good.”
“Yes, you do,” I agreed.
“I’d love to have a lavish 69 now, but I think we’re already going to be late,” she said.
I glanced at the clock. “Oh fuck!”
“Okay, really late,” she laughed.
“We’d better get going,” I said.
“You’d better clean up, you look like you just got fucked, and you have my cunt all over your face,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, probably not a good look to share with kindergartners,” I laughed.
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SHOWER SCENE ENDING FOR BOTH STORIES:
“Let’s take a quick shower,” she said, getting up and taking my hand before we left her little suite and ran nakedly down the hallway.
I giggled all the way to the communal bathroom, knowing I would do anything to be with her.
Following a finger fucking and orgasm for each of us in the shower while I learned a very creative way to use a shower head, we were dressed and heading to school where my daughter would be… while I questioned not only my sexuality, but my marriage.