“Would you like me to turn it up some more?” she asks.
I groan with pleasure and manage to nod at my mistress.
“First, you must do as you are told and change positions for me,” she commands. “I want you to get on all fours but you must not look at me.”
Right at this moment I would do anything to please her. She releases each arm and each leg in turn allowing me to turn over and comply. Then she secures me in a kneeling position, legs slightly apart and arms tightly fastened above my head to some point in the roof of the van.
“Before I fuck you I must check that your engine is oiled and ready to move up a gear.”
The vibrator strapped to my clit is still buzzing away and I feel that I cannot take much more but still she continues to take it up to another level. Her left hand grasps my left buttock. Her right hand pushes between my legs and her fingers press against and move along the contours of my dripping pussy. I want something inside me now and I want to be fucked hard. Two fingers dip into and probe my hidden depths. She rotates her fingers back and forth as she withdraws them oh, so slowly. Then I feel the oily tip of her index finger press against the entrance to my arsehole. I push back and my arse easily accommodates her finger. It’s a strange, totally new and very arousing experience for me. I have always dreamed of being fucked up the arse. Now my wish might just come true . . .
Whilst fingering my arse with her greasy finger, she leans forward and I feel her hard nipples pressed against my lower back. I moan in pleasure and she punishes me by squeezing my left breast hard and twisting my nipple. I let out a yelp but this just seems to encourage her. I feel a stinging slap against my buttock and I wince in pain.
“You bad girl!” she shouts. “Face the front and don’t let me catch you trying to look around at me again!!”
I feel an even more forceful spank on my other cheek followed by the sensation of the resultant heat spreading out across my arse.
“Now I am going to fuck you.” she whispers. “Up the arse and you’re going to like it.”
I hear what sounds like a power tool being revved up. Her left hand returns to my left buttock and she removes what are now two oily fingers from my arse. I feel something smooth and much, much larger press against the crack of my arse. I experience a brief moment of fear.
Oh, no, she won’t try and put that thing up inside me, will she? I think.
But then I hear the sound of the electric motor again and the tip of the huge dildo moves back and forth, very slowly, and gradually begins to inch its way into my arse. Its surface is very oily and slippery and there is very little friction at all. I gasp as I feel myself opened up and completely controlled by this machine. The buzz and whine of the motor increases and I am deeply penetrated, fucked to my very core. My arse is hers. My mind swirls off into an almost altered state as I am overwhelmed with the simultaneous pounding sensations from within my arse and the buzzing from outside of my clit. The bonds tighten around my wrists and my gag is dripping with saliva where I have bitten against it. My tongue is swollen as I gasp for breath and I wonder how much more of this infliction I can take. I know that soon things are about to reach a crescendo and I am going to climax like I never have before.
As the sound of the motor reaches fever pitch I feel the heat in my pussy start to rise up through my whole body. I’m throbbing and throbbing along with the buzz of the machinery. My legs tense and my body starts to shudder as I am driven to the point of no return. Overwhelmed by the rush of pure ecstasy. I cry out with abandon and I come and come and come.
I am utterly broken.
Just then I feel her cradle my head and feel her fingers moving, brushing softly against my hair. “Sweetheart,” she murmurs gently.
I feel the tension on my restraints loosening. I feel the blindfold come undone and as it falls down over my flushed face. I remain quietly obedient and keep my eyes tightly closed.
“Now comes the end of the guessing game,” says my mistress firmly. I turn slowly, squinting against the unaccustomed light, and look up into the face of the woman who has so thoroughly fucked me. Fucked me and made me her slave.
“I hope you liked this surprise birthday present.” She smiles wickedly. “Maybe next time you can do the same for me?”
I stare up in shock at my mistress’s viciously heeled boots, up her rounded thighs and marvel at the sight of her curvaceous figure barely held in check by a tight black PVC catsuit. The zip is opened all the way down to her navel and I can see lusciously full breasts with a hint of darkened erect nipple peeking out through the opening in the shiny black fabric. I’m amazed to discover that I know this woman. I’ve known her for years! It’s my flatmate Simone, the very one who’d bought me the black lacy bra and panties that I had been wearing that day for my birthday.
“I always said that your best birthday present would be living out one of your fantasies,” she purrs. “Now tell me if I was right?”
She was right.
Cognac
Ciana (Fairfield, USA)
The hotel was the most extravagant yet for the annual party a group of Simon’s associates held. I knew a few wives, and did my best to mingle while Simon played the “must” politics. It did not take long to complete the rounds and run out of familiar faces. I looked for Simon, but saw he was involved in conversation and so I decided to find a safer harbour to bide my time.
As I slowly made my way to the grand bar at the back of the ballroom, the tall blond bartender caught my eye. He looked a bit younger, and more attractive than anyone has a right to be. The real killer was that lop-sided grin; the one that makes a woman’s knees go weak. It was impossible not to return a smile and acknowledge the impact of his silent flattery.
With a polite greeting, I named my drink, something stronger than my usual, something more appropriate for such a . . . tedious occasion. The bartender stared back for a moment, the edge of his cocky smile lifting, deepening the crease of his suntanned cheek before he turned his back to pour. I found myself sizing him up, the stylish cut of his hair, the broad shoulders in the short white jacket of his uniform, the hard buttocks that filled the seat of those black, perfectly creased slacks so well. When I looked up I realized he had been watching my bold perusal in the mirror. This time he gave me a more seductive grin. Embarrassed, I feigned a cough and looked away.
“What’s your poison?”
Startled by the voice, I turned. The speaker was a saucy, voluptuous brunette with pouty lips and a pair of gorgeous, expressive brown eyes. I placed her age somewhere between the charming bartender’s and mine. She wore little make-up, and her short layered hair was carelessly tousled. Her dress, her informal manner, all indicated a distinct earthiness. And when she did not fabricate a smile, I took it as further evidence of her easy casualness, her total lack of pretence. I had no doubt we could be friends.
“Cognac,” I answered, meeting her gaze.
“Same,” she informed the bartender, her glance falling below his waist briefly before she returned her attention to me. “Meg. My name is Meg.”
“Hello, Meg. I’m Bella.”
“Great party, isn’t it?”
The question sounded tentative, a gauge. When I sent her my best get-serious look, she chuckled, sounding relieved at not having received the standard polite bullshit.
“Are you staying here, at the hotel tonight?”
“Only way Simon can get me to attend these socials.”
She laughed, with one of those sexy throaty laughs that melt men.
Before either of us could say more, the bartender set her drink down on the counter then casually leaned on his elbow with all the confidence in the world. He looked from me to Meg, his lascivious thoughts no secret. His glance inched to her full breasts, swelled high in her strapless black gown. Who could blame him? Carnality exuded from the woman, and there was no lack of want there either.
When Meg, unruffled by his boldness, continued to sip her cognac, the bartender made a sm
all sound of desire then returned his attention to me. Gone was the previously playful smile, replaced by a candid expression of pure lust.
When a guest broke the sexually charged atmosphere, I became aware of the hot moisture our silent but intense exchange had generated, and shifted for comfort in suddenly dampened panties.
“Yeah, me too,” Meg announced in a soft voice.
Discomfited by the frank and unexpected admission, I cleared my throat and took another sip of cognac.
Meg studied me through slanted eyes, then really floored me with her next comment. “Bella? Let’s fuck.”
I stood frozen, mouth agape, mind racing to distinguish fact from imagination before I was able to force my eyes to blink and collect my wits. Slowly absorbing her advance, I allowed her candour to encourage mine. When I met her eyes, it was with equal forthrightness, and we established an understanding.
“Are you here by yourself?” I asked as an afterthought.
“I am now. My brother’s date showed up after all.”
I turned and searched the room. Simon was speaking to a squat, balding man but his gaze was fixed upon me. We made eye contact, then his glance moved to Meg.
“Is that your husband? Not bad,” she remarked.
Now that the course had been set I was simply too aroused and too anxious to dally. “Let’s go,” I said decisively when she continued to regard Simon with a calculating expression.
Meg shot me a rapturous look, and then quickly downed her drink.
We had only taken a few steps when, as if prompted by an unspoken signal, we paused as one and turned for a last look. The sexy bartender was wiping a wineglass but we seemed to still hold his undivided attention. He squinted in return, a hedonistic squint combined with regret. Meg and I sighed simultaneously, like a couple of lovesick teens, then turned and left with shared reluctance.
As she led the way out of the ballroom, my focus remained on her voluptuous bottom, quivering underneath the jersey fabric of her formal with each step she took. More hot steam pooled between my legs and I hastened my stride.
We rode the elevator in silence, oblivious of the elderly couple who had followed us in. Meg stared at my shapely leg, visible up to the upper thigh through the long frontal slit of my evening gown. As for me, I shared the bartender’s appetite for her heaving breasts. By seconds, the moistened gusset of my panties was growing more uncomfortable.
I let Meg enter the room first. Just as I shut the door, we reached for each other, hungrily, without the usual formalities between two strangers. Driven by lust, there was no feminine gentility when our mouths parted and our tongues began an urgent, passionate acquaintance.
As we kissed, we tugged at clothes anxiously. Meg snapped open my bra, and we separated, both pulling at the straps to rid me of the restraining undergarment. My eyes fell on her curvaceous body wrapped in black corset and lace-top stockings. Her large erect nipples, popped over the half cups, looked ripe enough to make my mouth water. Mesmerized, I licked my lips and swallowed before I started to drool.
Meg literally shoved me onto the bed with a growl then came down herself. “Your skin is so soft, so creamy,” she murmured, anxiously caressing my arms, chest, tummy while her glance took a slow tour down the length of my long legs. Turning back abruptly, her eyes locked on mine and, without preamble, she shoved an elegant finger deep into my flaming centre.
“Aaahhh,” I sighed and raised my hips high to greet her.
“That feel good?” she asked, and covered my mouth with hers. Her tongue blasted through my parted lips in a mission of invasion. She took as liberally as I gave, and offered the same in return. All the while, my body pushed and churned on her comforting hand.
I moaned my loss when Meg tore her mouth away to posture herself for a more significant seizure. Welcoming the pain of passion, I clenched her hair and encouraged her hungry assault on my breasts.
“Delicious,” she cooed as she switched from one insistent nipple to the other.
I squeezed the breast she was suckling. It encouraged her to work harder. “So you like sucking tit, hmmm?” I teased.
With her lips pursed tightly around my taut peak, she could do little but moan.
“Me, too,” I agreed and, unable to resist any longer, reached for one of her heavy succulent mounds, only to have my hand pushed away.
“You’ll get your turn,” she teased and slid lower. “I want to taste your pussy.”
The sound of the door opening gave us only a momentary pause. “What took you so long?” I questioned when Simon entered.
“You know business, hon,” he answered, removing his tuxedo jacket.
Meg turned her head, but kindly kept her finger buried. She regarded Simon, one thick eyebrow arched with interest.
After the introductions, Simon removed his shoes and stretched out by my side. “Did I miss much?”
“A lot more to . . . come,” I replied.
He chuckled and gave me an affectionate kiss.
“So, Meg, what’s a nice girl like you doing in my bed?”
Meg gave him a brazen once over, then leaned across me. “Getting a good lay, I hope.”
“You got it, baby,” Simon promised and took that edible pouty mouth of hers with his. While he kissed her, Meg did not neglect me, her slender finger burrowing even deeper into the heat and humidity it worked to promote.
Releasing Meg, Simon asked, “What did I interrupt?”
“I was just about to taste Bella’s pussy.”
“Then let me help.”
He spread my delicate nether lips, gently, wide, using thumb and forefinger. Together, they stared long and hard at my vulnerable clit while it cried for attention. Then Simon’s heavy tongue came down and took a single slow lick, leaving me quivering.
“Mmm, that there is pure honey, Meg.”
Meg shot him a glance then dipped her head and snatched my swollen nub between velvet lips. My body responded instantly, welcoming the impatiently longed-for onslaught.
Simon’s eyes remained on my writhing form as he first removed his bow tie then eased my legs wider apart. Meg accepted the invitation and carefully moved to lie in the “V” he had provided, her finger never slipping out of my honeyed nest in the process. I, in turn, bent my knees deeper around her and provided her with a more splayed access.
Settled, with her warm breath fanning my pubic hairs in a pleasant distraction, she extracted her buried finger. Before I could feel its absence, a soothing plump tongue slipped in to take its place, intoxicating me. I took Meg’s head in both hands and pushed my crotch to her face. She held nothing back, huffing and slurping as she reached farther and farther into my depths. It was heaven.
I cried deliriously when she next removed the essence of my pleasure, that nimble tongue of hers. Then cried again when she filled me with two fingers in its stead. And when she took my greedy clit once more, I became lost in the climb toward nirvana.
Simon pinched my nipple, forcing me to arch my back, to offer him more. “Come,” he ordered, his dark eyes demanding the pleasure of seeing me in ecstasy.
My heart pounding with love, I submitted to my needs and to his command, breathing his name just as the little death arrived to make its exalted claim.
I flowed with soft screams, fighting to keep my eyes open. Meg pushed her fingers in deeper, her mouth firming on my little nub, her sucking relentless. Simon watched proudly, victoriously, as my body bucked and churned in its attempt to cram Meg into my cunt.
In the end, it was his pleasure that brought me the greater contentment.
“You’re right, sweet as honey,” Meg confirmed when, having removed his clothes, Simon returned to join us on the bed.
Meg and I unwound from each other, making room for him to lie between us. Simon kissed and caressed in turns while our bodies took refuge in his masculinity. Leading Meg and me into our own private exchange of passion, he slid lower to bury his face in breasts. His hum of delight echoed as he fondled and s
uckled, his efforts earning him even more tender and responsive nipples.
“Meg.” Simon gently separated us. “Why don’t you come sit on my face?”
Meg’s eyes sparkled. She moved quickly to straddle him, on her knees, backward.
“Show it to me first,” he requested. “Open it nice and wide.”
She shifted to find her balance then carefully leaned forward, her rear lifting inches. Both hands reached back, deepening the arch of her spine, and ever so luxuriantly spread her cheeks.
“Oohhh, what a sweet plump pussy,” Simon murmured after a moment of silent observation, and then sniffed deeply. “All right, baby, go ahead and set it down for me now.”
Meg lowered herself on his face, her drawn out moan at initial contact turning into a breathy sigh of accomplishment with the final seating.
I took Simon’s powerful cock in my hand and gave it a little kiss, inhaling his familiar unique scent before swallowing what I could of him, with all the tenderness my hunger would allow. His balls cradled in my palm, I sucked hard, in the very way that I know pleases him most.
Meg interrupted with a touch, desire in her countenance. She brought her head down, mouth open, anxious. Her moan rang of gratitude when I placed Simon’s swollen tip between her lips. She suckled it preciously, then took it deeper, shifting her hips from side to side, opening herself wider for him.
As I carry a constant, insatiable need to pleasure Simon, I could not pass up the opportunity when it arose. Positioning myself between his bent legs, I licked and pampered his sac of skin while Meg continued to ravish his cock. Together, we created a lovely chorus of moans.
When still it was not enough, and I ached to provide more, I forced Simon’s legs wider apart and reached lower, knowing just how much it pleasures him to have his anus tongued.
It took little time for Meg’s breathing to grow heavier with her approaching climax and I returned to their side, to aid and participate.
“He loves cunt juice; smear him good,” I whispered in her ear. She heeded my advice and, grunting, tackled the task with more gusto.
The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies Page 44
