by Sasha Pearl
Holding my camera again, I ask her to sit up so her tits fall out, then bend her knees a little, just a little, so you - I mean, Playboy readers - could have a generous peek at what was going on down below.
She did bend her knees, but kept them locked together.
I did not point this out to her, but took a few more pictures, telling her she was beautiful, that she was sexy, and then put the camera back down.
She fell back into the pillows again, splaying her hair around herself. I lay beside her, behind her almost, running my fingers through her hair while letting her settle back onto me so my tits are behind her.
With long strokes my fingers ran from her hair, down her arm, down her hip, to her thigh, then up her stomach, around and between her tits, to her hair and back down.
Over and over I make this journey, not telling her not even mentioning that each time my hand gets down low and turns up towards her stomach, she opens her knees a little more, exhales hard.
Then my hand stopped between her tits and I move myself over and on top slightly, so I could look her straight in the eyes while my hand went back down, this time lifting her dress up, uncovering her pussy entirely.
Let me see it, I tell her, my hand on her thigh, just next to her pussy, so close to it that if I bent my thumb upwards just an inch it would be flat against her clit.
She opened her knees and I do move my thumb against her clit then slide my middle finger deep inside her wet pussy.
She sighed harder this time, opening her legs wider.
I move down for a better look, grazing my lips down her smooth soft stomach, down to her neatly framed pussy which I swear to you was gasping for a dick.
Instead – or at least, for an appetizer – I offered it my face and fingers, licking her throbbing pussy and pushing up and in and around until that wasn’t enough, so I flipped her over across my lap, pulled out my dildo and slid it slowly into her grateful pussy with long slow strokes while pinching her tits with my free hand.
Before she came, she turned a little bit, reached up and under my shirt to free my tits, then sucked on them while I dildo fucked her, feeling myself get wetter at while she sucked harder and pinched my tits while I played with her tits and pushed the dildo in hard and harder, until finally I felt her pussy pull up tight around it then push it gently out and then pulling again, contracting over and over as she came while sucking my tits.
It was then that you walked in, finding her sprawled, half naked and satisfied with me holding an invisible camera and smiling right in the direction of your thick hard dick.
And so that’s when you arrived, and yes, you were right she did look shocked to see you, so it was a good idea to slip off and excuse yourself while I slipped the dildo out of her dripping pussy and sent the girl back to her room to find a better outfit.
So, for the record, she was gone 6 minutes, which apparently WAS “enough” time, especially since I was already juiced up (Thank you!)
I still can’t figure what it was that you were doing that pushed me up and over the edge so quickly, so you’ll have to show me, on her, because she’s knocking on the door now, ready to finish what she started.
She’s wearing a little lace nighty, this time it’s white and silky – much better than the scratch lace one.
I tell her you are t, and she looks extra impressed.
“The international man of pleasure and mystery?” she asked, “theone with the huge dick? The one all those women are always applying to fuck? Wow.”
So from there, it didn’t take her long to fall to her knees and worship suck your dick – covered in my juices, yes – and I don’t think you could hear her talking with her mouth full, but since I was down there too, I can tell you she was enthusiastic and hungry for your cock.
Impressed enough, you see, that it was nothing to suggest to her she could maybe suck the dildo while she got a real dick this time.
And so, faster than I expected, but exactly as I'd imagined, over the bed she went, round ripe ass in the air looking back at you, half-bracing herself.
From my angle, for the record, you seemed pretty pleased with her ass (you’re welcome!).
Happier still, I think -- because yes, I did keep looking -- when I joined her, licking her juices off the dildo before sliding myself up a bit more, letting her kiss up my thigh and under my skirt, feeling her moan into my pussy with pleasure while you pounded her from behind.
*********
I was on top of her sliding and pushing and you were back there (watching) which is when I remembered the camera.
Just waving it around brought her back to life, didn’t it?
Thinking she would be in Playboy, the girl perked up, pinching her tits, wiggling. I didn’t expect her to go down on me while you took picture s(your directions actually did help her, so thank you.)
I think you got some good stuff -- let me know.
From there, you had us both turn towards you, and as you had two pussies and four tits to service, I appreciate your balance and attention to detail.
Seeing your hand slip into and around in her while feeling the same in and under me pushed me over faster that I wanted it too, which is why I came all over your hand and was ready for more.
But the way she was bucking against your arm, I think she was ready for more too, so I pulled out the blue bag hidden under the bed and slipped into the strap-on I bought just for this celebration today.
And so there we finished, me in the middle, you behind, her sprawled on the bed, in and out and over and through, slowly heating, until I couldn’t stand it any more and I held myself still, letting your pounding push though me and into her, sucking on her bouncing tits until she came with her head back, sweaty and laughing.
I was next, then, finally, you – all over the two of us, which we cleaned up (you have the pictures, yes?) before finally sucking every bit of the night off your dick.
By then, the girl looked tired – who could blame her? – so I brought her back to her room, tucked her in (naked naked naked) and promised to give her application “very serious” consideration.
It was in that satiated quite peace then that we savored a private dessert, then had the same thing warmed over for breakfast.
After that, I processed her application to the CMFC.
Happy Birthday*
PS – let me know how the pictures come out!
PPSS – you fucked me so good (and etc, of course), that I forgot to give you your present – it was disguised in a plain white box. I’ll just keep it for you until….
STORY #4
Oranges and Jasmine
She had the strong accurate hands of a talented Asian sex worker.
The loose white shirt she wore showed cleavage only to a person perched above her (like I was); her tits were apple sized and widely spaced.
Also, her name is an anagram. I like that.
Thankfully, I wore a skirt today.
Just to be cool, I didn't really talk to her.
If I did, I'd have to listen, and I don't want to listen, I want to slip into how damn good her hands feel sliding up and down my leg.
I just wonder how much of a tip it would take for her to go a little higher up, and a little higher up still. I imagine her hands up and down my thighs and her face in between, working into my pussy....
In real life, she snaps me out of this with a series of what I'd have to call spanking smack. Not on my ass - which is fine because that part of me is occupied on a vibrating rolling hot mess of pedicure chair.
Ms. Anagram with the swingy apple-sized tits (which, at this time, I wanted to grab) smacked my feet my calves my legs in a way that was a lot more shocking and attention-grabbing han painful, but it definitely made me respect her more and grind a little harder onto the vibrating chair.
Maybe she really is a sex worker, and if she is, I'm wondering what the code word is to get into the private room.
Then I remember what to ask for (and decide to as for one,
from HER) and smile at my impending fortune.....
Surprise!
I told her I was surprised she was late, not that she was here.
She shrugged me off (she does that) and led me to sit down (she does that too).
Our bare knees grazed each other as we sat on the sofa turned to face each other.
The way she sat made her skirt hike up (it is either very tomboyish or very sluttish, I can’t figure out which one) - she had teal panties on.
I sat a little more gracefully, quite aware of of having no panties on.
Lisa told me then about my day, about the next part of my day – pedicures and waxes and “an amazing sauna I wouldn’t believe.”
It sounded she was primping and plumping me up like a chicken about to be dressed and served at tonight’s party. I asked her what the point of this wonderful day would be and before she could tell me that she wasn’t going to tell me my stomach growled so hard it interrupted us and changed the topic.
Of all the delicious and savory things that happened that day and night, probably the biggest surprise (and most dangerous part) was my volunteering to cook lunch for us.
Every year I get one gift I really like. Two years ago it was a great knife from my Dad.
Last year I thought my mom regifted me a black purse that I’m sure was a “free gift with purchase” that I had been given and had in turn given to my mom asking her to take to Cuba.
I thought my mom had given it back to me in an awful joke.
Then I saw the Coach tag and looked at it with a different eye. It was gorgeous. It was black and simple and oh my god it was a Coach purse I never had a Coach purse or a Fendi or a Brighton or anything like that. Until that moment I didn’t know I wanted one or would love one but I did.
And then this year my Dad gave me an even bigger, funner chef knife. Which I brought here, and really wanted to use, so I chopped and chopped and sliced and simmered and made us frittatas and an intricate fruit salad (which I didn’t eat).
After that we headed for our pedicures and bikini waxes. Really it was a genius move for them to combine these two procedures into one chair and I swear to you I meant to take minute by minute notes of what happened but it was so delicious it melted me a little.
The room we spent the afternoon in had a large bamboo waterfall and six white-framed white windows facing the lake. The view reminded me of that hotel in “Somewhere in Time” the one on Macinaw Island in Michigan, but I went there once with my parents and it was so cold and so it felt different than this lake.
This lake is warm; no one winces when a lake breeze sweeps by – instead, they stand still and smell… what is it? Oranges? Jasmine?
Its something wonderful and warm, whatever it is.
Whatever they poured into the pedicure path smelled like honey and cinnamon.
The attendant who cared for me was a Japanese-Irish looking freckled elf with long hair and a quiet presence. She was quiet with strong hands whose firm rhythmic touch that swirled me into an almost sleep from which I awoke at the alarming sound of a vibrating noise right by my pussy.
STORY #5
It was there in that kitchen in the borrowed beach house, quiet (and, alone, so I thought) that my headache began to leave. This is a big deal because I’ve never had a headache stay with me so long I thought to name it (something like “Bitch” but the best I could do was “Heather”).
This headache (unlike any hot chick named Heather) has been twisting itself down into me throbbing (and not in the way I’d like, or appreciate, or enjoy) over the past two weeks, growing bigger with every tear I’ve bitten back and every smile I’ve forced.
I’ve tried Tylenol and Motrin and heat and cold and even pillows on my head but nothing has made this drilling throbbing pain abate.
So I thought maybe coffee would help.
I was standing there staring at the coffee pot, wondering if it was worth the effort to make coffee or maybe it would just be nice to lean my cheek on the cool vanilla granite counter and look out the window to the water.
Another time – maybe after coffee? – the warmth of your hands appearing so suddenly (and intimately) up inside my dress might have made me jump or at least make a noise so girly it would be worthy of imitation (later) but for now, the technically perfect pressure of your fingers so delicately and patiently moving inside me and around my clit made me cum in thankful hard wet spasms that went down your hand in onto my leg.
In that moments after that, when I leaned back and let myself relax (a little) into you so that I could feel your hardness against me, my headache retreated some (thank you) but there was more work to do.
If I could keep my eyes open I would read what I’d written, but all I can see is the word "headache" while I hold my breath trying to not beg you to push into me harder and faster but if you do I’ll just cum again and I’ll be that much closer to a useless pile of drool.
Where was I?
Who had a headache?
I have nothing to hold onto to keep myself from pushing back onto you and your hard dick, which you’re clearly teasing me with (why?) by only sliding a little bit in, then out, and around, and if I had one tiny bit less dignity I would just about right now start begging out loud.
For now, just in my head. Silently.
More, harder, harder, more. Please.
There, I typed it instead of saying it, I have some dignity.
Now that you’ve slid my dress down enough that there is no pulling it back up over my tits, I think I should turn around and offer them to you but you’re so generously pushing into me deeper and so I’m not moving in any direction that would get me off your dick a second before I absolutely have to.
Now that you’re moving slower than I thought a person could move and still be felt so acutely, wait, not so slowly now, you’re moving more and more and – deeper – and I’m going to have to take my hands off the keyboards of I swear I’ll fall facefirst into the screen.
Wasn’t there a girl named Heather here?
Where did she go?
Then I remember Heather.
This is Heather’s house (actually it belongs to her rich aunt who is withering away in a nursing home), her BEACH house, I mean.
She lives in a sensible townhouse, pays her bills before they’re due, and keeps her monthly waxing appointment whether she needs it or not.
I work with her, and I’ve dogsat for her, so she invited me (here) as a payback of sorts. I think she’s invited herself, too. So I thought you’d want that heads up. I think she’s coming for sex.
And if she does, I’m going to need some backup because I have a feeling that after three glasses of white zinfandel and a big slice of cheesecake, she’ll be talking (again) about how long its been since she’s had sex and (again) she’ll want to show me her sex toys and see mine and (again) I’ll pretend I suddenly can’t understand a single word of English, and I’m very very good at that you haven’t seen me play it in awhile but trust me.
Last time I was at this house ended up back in my room, alone, trying to figure out whether to lock the door or not.
I slipped the hard silver bullet vibrator right between my pussy lips but instead of turning it on, I sat there listening for her vibrator, like maybe I would hear it across the wall and know she was thinking of fucking me like I was thinking of fucking her since I didn’t fuck her and I really could have but well, I didn’t and that’s that.
She didn’t fuck me either, for the record.
And for your information (now that you personally fucked the “uptight” out of me, thank you) I was damn close.
I was sitting down on the floor leaning against the sofa (you know I always end up on the floor, I was raised by refugees its my quirk), and then I couldn’t help myself, I wanted to touch her.
I slid my hands up and down her silky calves and she lifted her dress up to her knees and I felt how soft she was bit by bit, up her leg, first the outside and then the inside (it’s amazing where kind
words will get you with a brunette, are they all sluts?).
I’m not sure I exactly noticed then that she’d moved her skirt up higher and relaxed her legs just enough so my hand could graze over the wet crack in her thin satin panties which were two shades of blue – lighter where they were dry, and darker in the wet middle.
Two, three, four times my fingers brushed slowly from her mound all the way down and then back again, enough to feel how swollen with dissatisfaction she was, but not hard enough to give her any satisfaction at all.
Really, the woman looked like a cat, the way some just offer themselves up to be pleasured so shamelessly, legs open, purring. I took it for encouragement, and moved my face a little closer between her legs.
That’s when I grazed the inside of her thigh (her right one, I knew you’d ask, I still know you’ll want me to show you. Actually, I’ll be pretty pleased to just direct you to re-enact My Great Moment) with my cheek, then turned to kiss it.
She smelled like cinnamon and vanilla and something else (maybe jasmine?), I noticed every bit of all of it as I kissed my way from inside her right thigh, just above her knee, all the way to where her leg ends and her soaked panties began.
Heather made the saddest exhaling noise I ever heard when I skipped over her pussy (I did pause to consider kissing it over the panties, I wanted to) and kissed down the other side of her leg, not far though, just a little.
Then I slid up her, pausing just a minute to push my pussy up against hers, and asked her very nicely to turn herself over, which she obligingly did...
