nudes-des-artiste in topic Pussy
“Okay Donna, your turn.”
“I don’t think I could, I’m not that way.”
“Neither are we sweetie. Just go ahead and enjoy yourself. Pretend she’s a man if you like.”
Claire seemed intent on piling on the indignity. She was making it clear to me and the others just what my station was.
“Come on, treat yourself. No one outside this room will ever know and I promise you she’s very talented.”
For a fleeting second I felt a twinge of pride. Just a matter of weeks before I had had no experience with another woman and here I was being described as talented. The truth was that I was being damned by faint praise.
I was relieved when Donna got up from her chair, not just because I was to be spared any further ordeal but because I hoped that the others would feel shamed by her example.
I hoped that the others might see her to the door and give me a chance to dive into the bathroom, but it was not to be.
Donna had been wearing an expensively tailored two-piece safari suit but when, suddenly, she sat down again she had removed her trousers. She had obviously not been fazed by undressing in front of the others.
From beneath the table the bottom of her jacket now looked like the hem of a micro mini skirt from which her long, dusky, legs extended and she made a point of positioning them to either side of my hunched body.
For a moment I fought, trying not to look, but the treacherous golem that I had become would not be denied. My gaze, anchored on her left ankle, drifted slowly upwards taking in her trim calf, her knee, with its neat, fading, sports scar, and then her muscled, but shapely, thigh before feasting on her pudenda.
She had shaved but was now showing a day or twos growth of tiny black bristles which stood out against her mocha coloured skin like the pelt of some exotic animal. Against this background her labia stood out like a frozen eruption. The ruffled edges were dark shading to a lighter hue which suddenly yielded to a vivid, glistening, pink.
I moved closer, catching her smell, no different to the others but, to my addled mind, in some way richer. So too her taste. She had obviously been turned on by the performances of Claire and Cassandra and, as I applied my tongue to her, almost reverentially, she began to leak a pungent syrup.
The only outward sign to the others that I had begun was a deep sigh and she retained her self control over the ensuing minutes as I used everything I knew to bring her to the brink. She particularly liked it when I licked over her whole mound, lapping up her seepage, but her fresh growth was painful to my tongue.
It became a battle of wills. Each time I got her close she would shift slightly bringing my tongue to bear elsewhere and allowing herself to go off the boil. As more time passed any perverted pleasure I took from it began to ebb and I became ever more aware of the soreness of my tongue and a growing cramp in my jaw.
I was lapping at her clitoris when she tried to shift again but this time I stayed with her, increasing the tempo, and sucking a little less gently. This sudden nudge towards the edge took her unawares and she swayed there trying to regain her equilibrium but it was too late. With a loud, uncontrolled, moan she started to come - spraying my face in a manner of which Claire would have been proud.
Afterwards I just hunched there curled up in my own misery listening to their casual evaluation of what had transpired.
“Well this was the last thing I expected when you invited me to supper.”
“It was my pleasure, or rather, our pleasure”
“Any chance of you making a regular event?”
“Donna! You’re insatiable. Haven’t you had enough?”
“Well now you come to mention it….”
Extracted from You Are What You Eat by krr1957 on Literotica.com
#lesbian #erotica #literotica #blonde #eatingpussy
“I don’t think I could, I’m not that way.”
“Neither are we sweetie. Just go ahead and enjoy yourself. Pretend she’s a man if you like.”
Claire seemed intent on piling on the indignity. She was making it clear to me and the others just what my station was.
“Come on, treat yourself. No one outside this room will ever know and I promise you she’s very talented.”
For a fleeting second I felt a twinge of pride. Just a matter of weeks before I had had no experience with another woman and here I was being described as talented. The truth was that I was being damned by faint praise.
I was relieved when Donna got up from her chair, not just because I was to be spared any further ordeal but because I hoped that the others would feel shamed by her example.
I hoped that the others might see her to the door and give me a chance to dive into the bathroom, but it was not to be.
Donna had been wearing an expensively tailored two-piece safari suit but when, suddenly, she sat down again she had removed her trousers. She had obviously not been fazed by undressing in front of the others.
From beneath the table the bottom of her jacket now looked like the hem of a micro mini skirt from which her long, dusky, legs extended and she made a point of positioning them to either side of my hunched body.
For a moment I fought, trying not to look, but the treacherous golem that I had become would not be denied. My gaze, anchored on her left ankle, drifted slowly upwards taking in her trim calf, her knee, with its neat, fading, sports scar, and then her muscled, but shapely, thigh before feasting on her pudenda.
She had shaved but was now showing a day or twos growth of tiny black bristles which stood out against her mocha coloured skin like the pelt of some exotic animal. Against this background her labia stood out like a frozen eruption. The ruffled edges were dark shading to a lighter hue which suddenly yielded to a vivid, glistening, pink.
I moved closer, catching her smell, no different to the others but, to my addled mind, in some way richer. So too her taste. She had obviously been turned on by the performances of Claire and Cassandra and, as I applied my tongue to her, almost reverentially, she began to leak a pungent syrup.
The only outward sign to the others that I had begun was a deep sigh and she retained her self control over the ensuing minutes as I used everything I knew to bring her to the brink. She particularly liked it when I licked over her whole mound, lapping up her seepage, but her fresh growth was painful to my tongue.
It became a battle of wills. Each time I got her close she would shift slightly bringing my tongue to bear elsewhere and allowing herself to go off the boil. As more time passed any perverted pleasure I took from it began to ebb and I became ever more aware of the soreness of my tongue and a growing cramp in my jaw.
I was lapping at her clitoris when she tried to shift again but this time I stayed with her, increasing the tempo, and sucking a little less gently. This sudden nudge towards the edge took her unawares and she swayed there trying to regain her equilibrium but it was too late. With a loud, uncontrolled, moan she started to come - spraying my face in a manner of which Claire would have been proud.
Afterwards I just hunched there curled up in my own misery listening to their casual evaluation of what had transpired.
“Well this was the last thing I expected when you invited me to supper.”
“It was my pleasure, or rather, our pleasure”
“Any chance of you making a regular event?”
“Donna! You’re insatiable. Haven’t you had enough?”
“Well now you come to mention it….”
Extracted from You Are What You Eat by krr1957 on Literotica.com
#lesbian #erotica #literotica #blonde #eatingpussy
