“Do it.” Mariette finally nods, biting her lower lip nervously.
“This will feel so good.” You assure her before slowly pushing it inside her, the waxy shaft slipping easily into her sodden pussy. Your heart thumps in your chest as you begin to work the impromptu dildo back and forth inside her, her head rocking from side to side and her hands clawing at her breasts.
“Oui, oui.” She moans thickly. You smile and settle into a rhythm, the candle slipping deeply inside her as she stretches to accommodate it. While your own pussy aches for attention, you ignore your own carnal cravings and slide your free hand up to her clit. As you gently tease her with your thumb, working it in a circular motion, the added stimulation has her writhing in pleasure.
“Sit on my face.” Mariette abruptly tells you. “I want to taste you.” This time it’s your eyes that widen, but with the ache between your thighs demanding attention, you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. You swing your body around, dropping your knees either side of her head. While you continue to pump the candle in and out of her, the Frenchwoman cranes her head forward and you feel her hot breath on your damp, puffy lips.
“Ohhh, yessss.” You hiss as you feel her tongue swipe the length of your juicy furrow. She chuckles at your reaction, but continues to probe inside you, sliding her tongue back and forth while you continue to vigorously pleasure her with the candle. As Mariette begins to squirm and wriggle beneath you, you realize she is closing in. She lashes her tongue at your slit, grasping your buttocks as leverage to pull her face in tightly. You moan with delight, the candle squelching inside her as you frantically thrust it into her drenched pussy.
“Don’t stop!” She gasps, pulling her tongue from you. Her hips rise off the bed and you can feel her tense up, her pussy tightening around the wax shaft of the candle. She grunts with release, her body trembling beneath you as powerful waves of pleasure ripple out from her core. Her breathless moans of ecstasy fill the room and you glance at the shuttered window, hoping her husband is out of earshot. When she finally relaxes, you gently withdraw the candle which now glistens with her juices.
“Uhhh, yes!” You moan with delight as you feel her tongue return to your pussy. This time, she slides her tongue up to your clit and reaches for the discarded candle.
“Your turn.” Mariette chuckles. Your mouth drops open as you feel the broad end of the candle push against your labia.
“Oh God!” You gasp as she slides it inside you. Dropping your head onto the bed, you pant as she begins to work the waxy shaft in and out of you while flicking her tongue insistently at your sensitive clitoris. The tumult of sensations make you feel lightheaded and you last only a few more moments before your climax crashes through you, surging out from your pussy to every extremity. You quiver with each powerful pulse until your orgasm finally subsides, leaving you breathless and raw. As you roll off Mariette, shattered but satisfied, you wonder who exactly seduced who. The bed creaks as the Frenchwoman rises. You lie there in a stupor, listening to the whisper of fabric as she pulls on her clothes.
“Merci, mon amour.” She whispers before you hear the soft click of the bedroom door close behind her.
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As quickly as the moment had arrived, it has passed and Mariette pulls away, gently scrubbing the rest of your body. When she finally straightens, dropping the sponge back into the bucket, you meet her gaze.
“Thank you.” You murmur, self-consciously pulling the sheet back up over your damp body. “I’m sure that can’t have been comfortable.”
“Think nothing of it.” She smiles, climbing to her feet, lifting the bucket and crossing the room. Pausing in the doorway, she glances furtively back over her shoulder at you, letting out a barely audible sigh before closing the door behind her.
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You reach down and grasp her right hand, moving it from your breast and guiding it further down your body. Mariette guesses your intentions, shifting her weight as she slides her hand down past your stomach. Her fingertips brush through your pubic hair and you part your legs as she slips her hand between your thighs.
“Mmm, yes.” You moan as you feel her press her fingers into your juicy furrow. She seems to have truly shed the last of her inhibitions as she slips her fingertips inside you and begins to gently rub your pussy. Your nipple slips from her mouth and she glances up at you.
“Does that feel good?” She breathes. You nod, your pulse racing as her hand works its magic. She smiles and takes your other nipple into her mouth. Moaning happily, you luxuriate in her attentions. Perhaps by knowing what she enjoys herself, Mariette teases you slowly, her touch soft and delicate as she caresses your folds. There is none of the urgency that you would generally experience with a man who might see such foreplay as little more than lip service to be paid before he gets to screw you.
“That feels incredible.” You murmur appreciatively down at Mariette. Noticing her squirm slightly, you realize that while you have waxing lyrically at her skill, you have neglected her own needs. You draw up your right leg until the top of your knee is pressed tightly between her thighs. Pulling away from your chest and gasping at the contact, her eyes widen slightly before her lips curl into a smile and she begins to grind herself against you. Her fingers sink deeper inside your drenched opening and it’s not long before you can feel her own wetness seeping through the thin cotton fabric of her dress. Mariette gazes desperately into your eyes and you wonder whether she is ready to push things further.
Suggest you go down on each other
Use your fingers on her too
“Come here.” You smile, rolling onto your side and pulling Mariette back up the bed until she is lying next to you, her fingers continuing to work between your thighs. You gaze into her eyes as you explore her body, caressing her generous breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. Her chest heaves with excitement and her dark eyes simmer with desire.
“You’re so beautiful.” She breathes. “I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you. I felt like a foolish schoolgirl with a crush and that Edward would be able to see right through me.”
“Shhh.” You smile, reaching for her and pressing your lips to hers once again. As you kiss slowly and tenderly, your hand slides further down her body, slowly pulling up the skirts of her dress. She flinches nervously as you slip your hand inside her panties, your fingers finding her wet opening. Mariette moans into your mouth as you trace the length of her slit before gently rubbing the tiny hood of her clit with a fingertip.
“That feels so good.” She murmurs, breaking the kiss. “I dearly love my husband, but how I have missed the delicate touch of a woman since we were betrothed.” You arch an eyebrow and Mariette blushes, smiling shyly.
“You certainly don’t seem to have lost your touch.” You moan breathlessly as her fingers continue to tease your clit, rubbing it in a circular motion.
“I touch myself almost every night when my husband is asleep beside me.” Mariette admits with a smile. “I imagine my fingers are the fingers of a mysterious lover as she silently seduces me.” Her fingers work faster between your legs and you find yourself matching her pace as your excitement fuels your lust. You embrace, your bodies pressed tightly together as you kiss once more. Mariette’s breathing is rapid and breathless now as is your own. The Frenchwoman seems to instinctively know when to speed up and when to slow down and she swiftly has you on the brink of your climax.
“Oh God, don’t stop!” You gasp, breaking the kiss. Mariette smiles, her eyes gleaming, knowing you are moments away. She grinds herself against your hand, her own breathing ragged and uneven as she nears her own orgasm. Yours is already upon you. Stiffening, you bite your lower lip to suppress your moans of ecstasy as you feel the warmth between your thighs become a raging inferno. You tremble with each wonderful pulse of pleasure, gazing deeply into Mariette’s eyes while she smiles, her fingers resting on your twitching clit. As your orgasm subsides, you turn your attention back to her, your fin
gertips dipping inside her or gently rubbing her sensitive button.
“Oui, oui, oui!” She moans breathlessly before her mouth drops open, her eyes roll back and she gasps as her climax consumes her. She bucks against your probing fingers until with a final shudder, she relaxes, her eyes heavy lidded and a blissful smile playing on her lips.
“Fantastique.” She murmurs drowsily as you embrace each other, her body heaving against yours as she catches her breath. You lie in each other’s arms, kissing tenderly before you both drift off to sleep. When you awake, darkness has fallen and Mariette has departed.
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“Has your husband ever licked you?” You ask her, flicking your eyes suggestively downward. Mariette’s eyes widen and she stifles a gasp of surprise.
“My husband!?” She replies with a sad smile. “Good God no! Sometimes I think he’s the reason the missionary position got its name!”
“And before your husband?” You smile, cocking an eyebrow. Her face glows red and she chews her lip thoughtfully for a moment.
“I had a lover in Paris when I was eighteen.” She finally whispers. “Such a delicate touch! To think the flick of a tongue could feel so wonderful… Mon Dieu, you could probably hear my cries from Notre Dame to the Arc de Triomphe!”
“Would you like to feel that way again?” You ask coyly, gazing into her eyes. Her lips curl into a smile and she slowly nods. “Take your clothes off.” Again she nods and sits back on the bed, grasping the hem of her white dress and lifting it up over her body. As she pulls it off over her head, her raven hair falling back over her bare shoulders in disarray, your pulse quickens at the sight of this beautiful, voluptuous woman. Her chestnut brown eyes gleam as she reaches behind her back, unhooking her ivory colored bra and sliding the straps off her arms. Her full breasts spill out as she discards the lacy garment. She hooks her thumbs into her panties and wriggles on the bed as she peels them down her thighs. Your gaze drops from her generous pale breasts to the contrasting triangle of dark curls between her legs. She drops a hand across her waist, perhaps self-conscious of the slight paunch of her stomach.
“So beautiful.” You murmur. Mariette smiles and her hand drifts away. You reach for her and take her in your arms, enjoying the soft warmth of her breasts crushed against yours. As your lips meet, she melts into your embrace, the kiss long and sensual. When you finally break the kiss, you are both breathing hard.
“Turn around.” You tell her, rolling onto your side. She nods and scrambles around on the bed until her pussy is inches from your face and yours is inches from hers. You place a hand on her hip and shift forward, gently placing a kiss on the tuft of pubic hair just above her opening. Mariette shivers with excitement. Feeling the warmth of her breath at your own entrance, you smile, your pulse racing in anticipation. She draws up a knee, her thighs parting and revealing her delicate, glistening folds. The aroma of her arousal fills your nostrils and your mouth waters. Unable to resist any longer, you press your face between her legs, plunging your tongue inside her. Your taste buds tingle at her sweet flavor and you begin to lap enthusiastically at her pussy.
“Oh God!” Mariette gasps before you feel the warm wetness of her own tongue swipe along the length of your slit. Moaning with pleasure, you grasp her hips, pulling your face even more tightly into her folds. Your muffled groans of delight fill the humid room as you eagerly pleasure each other. As your tongue flicks over her clitoris, you slip two and then three fingers inside her drenched opening. Growing in confidence with each passing moment, Mariette follows your lead, her fingers delving inside you.
“Yes, just like that.” You breathe, momentarily pulling your tongue from her sensitive button. You both find a rhythm, fingers moving inside each other as you gently lap at each other’s clits. Mariette squirms against you, her free hand caressing your buttock cheeks. Her taste is intoxicating and you can feel your climax rapidly rising with each swipe of her tongue. The Frenchwoman gets there first, stiffening before crying out into your folds. Her juices soak your fingers and the knowledge that you have made her come sends you headlong into your own orgasm. You shudder with each delicious surge of pleasure, her tongue continuing to tease your clit even as she trembles in the final waves of her own climax. The incredible sensations radiate out to your extremities making your fingers and toes tingle. When your orgasm subsides, you pull your face from between Mariette’s thighs, panting for breath while she does likewise. Both of you lie there for a few moments in the afterglow of your orgasms.
“You’re some tonic.” You grin. “I feel stronger already!” Mariette blushes and giggles. The moment swiftly passes and with a guilty glance towards the bedroom door, she abruptly sits up.
“I must go.” She tells you, quickly pulling her clothes back on. Head bowed, she hurries from the room, leaving you blinking with surprise.
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Figuring that as your seaplane is designed to land on water, it stands to reason that you’ll have more chance of landing successfully on the river than crashing it into the jungle. You bank the plane towards the Amazon River, lining her up as best you can with the ribbon of murky blue cutting through the vibrant green of the rain forest.
“Here goes nothing.” You mutter grimly, using the flaps to slow your airspeed while simultaneously trying to keep her from plunging into a fatal nosedive. Your hands grip the yoke so firmly that your forearms begin to ache. The altimeter spins rapidly counter-clockwise as the jungle rushes up to meet you. Fingers of mist and fog stretch out of the Amazon, like spectral claws, beckoning you to your doom. You fight with the yoke, keeping your eyes fixed on the river. Moments away, you grit your teeth, waiting for what you know will be a jarring impact. It doesn’t disappoint. The underside of the fuselage smashes into the water with a force far greater than Grumman ever designed her for. A colossal wave of water crashes over the nose and cracks the cockpit windows. You are thrown from your seat and sent flying across the cockpit, your head hitting the instrument panel and leaving you dazed. Reaching up to massage your temple, your fingers come away bloody. Behind you, the hull creaks in protest before giving up the fight and fracturing halfway. Water pours in through a widening rent and your stricken seaplane begins to rapidly sink into the remote stretch of river.
“Shit.” You murmur, your words slurred as you scramble back out of the cockpit. Murky water is already up to your waist. You stagger back through the cabin and reach the small tail hatch. Grasping the release handle, you pull it with all your might, but it refuses to budge.
“No, no, not like this.” You mutter, the water now up to your chest. You try again, but it feels solid. It must have been damaged in the crash. Perhaps the nose hatch? You glance forward just as the cockpit windows shatter, water gushing in. Too late for that. Desperation builds inside you while hope ebbs as you realize there is no escape. You will be another pilot whose fate will remain a mystery, if anyone even misses you at all.
“Goddamn it.” You cry out with frustration, your voice cracking as a single tear trickles down your cheek. The tail hatch abruptly falls away and a dark face of a woman appears through the opening. Her expression is focused and resolute and she grasps your hand, pulling you after her. Relief fills your heart and you allow her to pull you out of your plane. She hooks an arm around you and swims powerfully, dragging you across the churning waters of the river and hauling you up onto the bank. Panting for breath, you watch sadly as the tail of your airplane swiftly disappears into the murky water, lost forever. You glance over at your savior who is perched next to you, catching her breath.
“Thank you.” You tell her. She looks like something out of an Edgar Rice Burroughs novel: Naked other than a red loincloth, her face and chest show traces of white paint which must have all but washed off when she swam out to rescue you. Her body is slender and lithe, her soaked black hair hanging down to just above her small, firm breasts. Her face is broad yet not unattractive while her brown eyes are darker than the deep tan of her skin. A tribes
woman of the deepest, darkest Amazon.
“You… Welcome.” She grins. You blink, quite taken aback.
“You speak English!” You gasp.
“Little.” She shrugs.
“Well, no doubt a great deal more than I speak of your language.” You chuckle. She looks blankly at you.
“Come.” She tells you, getting to her feet and reaching down to help you to yours. You nod and follow her into the jungle, not knowing if you are to be sacrificed to some obscure Amazonian deity or perhaps to form the main course for a tribal feast.
When you reach her simple, but functional abode, a timber walled shelter, there are no chanting savages waiting to tie you to a stake. Relaxing, you peel off your jacket. Beneath, your shirt is still soaked and clings to your body. The tribeswoman gestures for you to sit down on a woven mat before gently applying some strange ointment to your head wound. While it looks like mud, it does seem to sooth the throbbing.
“Better?” She asks.
“Better.” You nod, feeling quite guilty at your earlier unfounded fears. Perhaps you have read too many pulp novels.
“Tribe village near,” She tells you. “Rest now. Make better. Make stronger.” You nod again.
“Your English, how do you speak it?” You ask her slowly, carefully enunciating each word.
“Missionary.” She smiles. “From England. He talk of God. Of British Empire. Of cricket.” She frowns as if the concept were equally baffling for each of the subjects.
“I’m surprised you listened.” You smile. She laughs, her eyes gleaming.
“His wife.” She grins. “Very...” She pauses, searching for the word. “Very beautiful.”
“Oh!” Your eyes widen and you feel your face glow. “I see.”
“Yes, very beautiful.” Her eyes take on a faraway look for a moment before focusing back on you. “Beautiful, like you.” You blink in surprise.
Adventures of the Aviatrix Page 12
