“Can everyone see?” Evan asked as he knelt on the bed.
An affirmative murmur rippled through the semi-circle of men behind him.
“Good. Then we’ll begin the lesson.” His gaze lifted to the model who lay prone before him. Arms relaxed, linked above her head, dark hair fanned out around her. “Open your legs, Mona.”
She sucked in a breath, spread her thighs.
Evan leaned forward, inhaled the heady scent of her cunt. “You want to start with a slow lick, between the labia, avoiding the clit.” He demonstrated with several long, slow strokes until Mona squirmed. “If you’re doing it right, your lover will respond.”
Students jotted notes, shared whispered comments.
“Open her thighs…” he pressed Mona’s legs apart and she arched her back “…and open your mouth. Drag your tongue from her cunt to her clit and back.” His head bobbed up and down as he showed the class. “Do it until…”
Mona let out a feral moan, chanting “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“…until she starts to pant. She may grab your hair or your face. She may not. Perhaps she’s holding onto the sheets to keep from floating off the bed.”
This remark brought a few chuckles from the class.
Evan turned his head to face his students. “Don’t laugh. If you’re doing it right, she should be levitating off the mattress.”
Mona grabbed his head and pushed it back between her thighs. He laughed. “And if you’re doing it right, she’ll do that.” His voice was muffled as she pushed him against her. “Keep eating her sweet pussy. Pay particular attention to her clit. Push your tongue into her cunt, lick her asshole if she lets you.”
Mona’s moans were loud and hungry as Evan devoured her. “Eventually she’ll start to…ah, see? Her hips will rock in an age-old dance. She can’t help herself. Her body’s natural response is to fuck. It’s her way of telling you she wants more. She NEEDS more. So give it to her.”
He moved so fast that several of the students didn’t see the technique. They would have to watch it later on the DVD that was included with the tuition fee.
Evan had her knees pinned back, legs spread wide as he fed on her pussy. “Using your tongue, push back the clit’s protective hood and suck. She’ll cum hard and fast.”
As if to prove his point, Mona cried out his name as her back bowed in a perfect arc.
“This will be on the exam, gentlemen.” Evan kissed Mona’s thigh and sat up.
She sent him a pouty look. “Is class over?”
“Would you like more?”
Mona nodded. “Oh god, yes!”
Evan lay down between her legs, spread her labia wide. “And there will be bonus points if she asks for more.”
Mona groaned as he dragged his tongue along her clit. When she pulled her knees back, spread her lips for him, he knew he’d be putting in overtime.
“Class dismissed,” he muttered as he eased two fingers into her wet cunt.
Thursday, 28 September 2017
Tuesday, 19 September 2017
Can't Get Enough
He squeezed her breast, thumbed the erect nipple. She fisted his hair and pushed him against her. His hot, wet mouth devoured her pussy.
“Harder,” she panted. “Harder. Harder.”
His tongued dipped down, teased her asshole and she moaned.
“Yes. Yes.”
His finger slid through the folds of her wet pussy, pushed into the heat of her cunt. Her hips thrust up, begging for release.
He pressed his open mouth on her pussy once again and she groaned. His mouth was relentless against her clit, as his finger pressed into her, made slow, easy strokes into her tight ass.
“Oh, fuck, yes!”
She came hard, her ass convulsing around his finger, her pussy dripping honey into his mouth.
“Again,” she begged. “Make me cum again. I can’t get enough of you.”
He smiled against her pussy. “My greedy little slut.”
“Harder,” she panted. “Harder. Harder.”
His tongued dipped down, teased her asshole and she moaned.
“Yes. Yes.”
His finger slid through the folds of her wet pussy, pushed into the heat of her cunt. Her hips thrust up, begging for release.
He pressed his open mouth on her pussy once again and she groaned. His mouth was relentless against her clit, as his finger pressed into her, made slow, easy strokes into her tight ass.
“Oh, fuck, yes!”
She came hard, her ass convulsing around his finger, her pussy dripping honey into his mouth.
“Again,” she begged. “Make me cum again. I can’t get enough of you.”
He smiled against her pussy. “My greedy little slut.”
Wednesday, 13 September 2017
Guidance
Sitting on the kitchen counter, I grip the edge, as if it’s a life preserver. He stands in front of me, naked. A bead of pre-cum clings to the shiny head of his cock. I lick my lips…fuck, I want to taste him!...but he backs away.
I try to suppress it, but a whimper escapes. I want him. I need him. I think he’s going to walk away, leave me needy, leave me to satisfy myself. Again.
But then he steps forward, pushes my knees apart, nudges his wet cock against my clit.
I moan. “Please. I need you inside me.”
“Not yet,” he says, and continues to tease my pussy. The build-up is unbearable and I rock my hips, maneuver to get his cock inside me, but he moves.
He drops to his knees, shoves my thighs apart, leans forward and clamps his mouth on my pussy. Relentless, he feasts like a starved animal, his tongue drilling against my clit until I cum hard.
I’m still panting, pulsing from the orgasm, when he shoves my knees back, drags his tongue between my pussy lips. He eases a finger into my cunt, pulls out, then presses two fingers in. He slides them in and out, slow and easy.
Greedy need pulses through me and I wrap my hands around my knees, pull my thighs wider.
“That’s it, baby,” he groans and spreads my lips apart to suck at my clit.
I love when he does this and I cum again, chanting “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
He kisses my mouth, and I can taste my own salty goodness on his lips. He stands back, though his cock still presses against my pussy.
I thrust against him, but he shifts again. Frustrated, I grab his cock, wrap my fist around it in a death grip. He closes his eyes, groans, pushes into my fist.
Triumphant, I shove his thick cock into my cunt, wrap my legs around his waist.
“Hard and fast,” I tell him.
Digging his fingers into my hips, he obeys and slams into me over and over, until I cum. My pussy is still quivering when he gives one final thrust and shoots deep inside me.
I try to suppress it, but a whimper escapes. I want him. I need him. I think he’s going to walk away, leave me needy, leave me to satisfy myself. Again.
But then he steps forward, pushes my knees apart, nudges his wet cock against my clit.
I moan. “Please. I need you inside me.”
“Not yet,” he says, and continues to tease my pussy. The build-up is unbearable and I rock my hips, maneuver to get his cock inside me, but he moves.
He drops to his knees, shoves my thighs apart, leans forward and clamps his mouth on my pussy. Relentless, he feasts like a starved animal, his tongue drilling against my clit until I cum hard.
I’m still panting, pulsing from the orgasm, when he shoves my knees back, drags his tongue between my pussy lips. He eases a finger into my cunt, pulls out, then presses two fingers in. He slides them in and out, slow and easy.
Greedy need pulses through me and I wrap my hands around my knees, pull my thighs wider.
“That’s it, baby,” he groans and spreads my lips apart to suck at my clit.
I love when he does this and I cum again, chanting “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
He kisses my mouth, and I can taste my own salty goodness on his lips. He stands back, though his cock still presses against my pussy.
I thrust against him, but he shifts again. Frustrated, I grab his cock, wrap my fist around it in a death grip. He closes his eyes, groans, pushes into my fist.
Triumphant, I shove his thick cock into my cunt, wrap my legs around his waist.
“Hard and fast,” I tell him.
Digging his fingers into my hips, he obeys and slams into me over and over, until I cum. My pussy is still quivering when he gives one final thrust and shoots deep inside me.
Tuesday, 5 September 2017
Lonely
Their marriage has been dead for weeks, months—oh, who the hell is she kidding? It’s been dead for years.
They’re still friends, but they stopped being lovers a long time ago. She has tried the sexy teddies, the dirty talk, but nothing seems to animate him. His response is…well, it’s less than impassioned.
I’m okay with it, is her standard response when her girlfriends ask. She has said it so many times that she is almost convinced.
Almost.
When she’s honest, she admits she wants a hand to caress her body, a breathy voice to tell her she’s wanted. Needed. She can’t remember the last time she felt needed.
To satisfy the urges, to relieve some of the tension that builds between her thighs, she scans through Tumblr, selecting gifs that reflect her fantasies. She perverts each stream into an image of him with her, can all but feel him push apart her thighs.
Not the one she has, you understand, but the one she wants. The one who wants her.
He would moan, she imagines, as his open mouth presses against her pussy, his full lips sucking on her clit.
“Is this what you want, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” One syllable is all she can manage as her fingers clench his hair.
She can hardly keep a thought in her head as his fingers push into her cunt, stroke in and out, dragging her to the edge.
She whimpers when he pulls his hand away and she feels his lips smile against her.
“Tell me,” he says, as his wet fingers stroke her ass, tease the pink rosebud. “Is this what you need?”
“Please,” she moans. “Please!” He presses into her and she opens her thighs wider, pushes her hips up. His mouth is hungry against her, dragging her up higher, building the pressure. His finger slides in and out of her ass in slow, tortuous strokes.
“Mmm, sweetheart? Is this what you need?”
“Fuck, yes.” The orgasm is powerful and her cunt throbs with it as she pulses around the finger that continues to slide in and out of her ass.
“Good,” he says. “We’re just getting started.”
She closes her eyes, alone in the quiet darkness of her bedroom, waits until the pulsing stops before she turns on her vibrator once more, lets herself sink back into the fantasy and makes herself cum once more.
They’re still friends, but they stopped being lovers a long time ago. She has tried the sexy teddies, the dirty talk, but nothing seems to animate him. His response is…well, it’s less than impassioned.
I’m okay with it, is her standard response when her girlfriends ask. She has said it so many times that she is almost convinced.
Almost.
When she’s honest, she admits she wants a hand to caress her body, a breathy voice to tell her she’s wanted. Needed. She can’t remember the last time she felt needed.
To satisfy the urges, to relieve some of the tension that builds between her thighs, she scans through Tumblr, selecting gifs that reflect her fantasies. She perverts each stream into an image of him with her, can all but feel him push apart her thighs.
Not the one she has, you understand, but the one she wants. The one who wants her.
He would moan, she imagines, as his open mouth presses against her pussy, his full lips sucking on her clit.
“Is this what you want, sweetheart?”
“Yes.” One syllable is all she can manage as her fingers clench his hair.
She can hardly keep a thought in her head as his fingers push into her cunt, stroke in and out, dragging her to the edge.
She whimpers when he pulls his hand away and she feels his lips smile against her.
“Tell me,” he says, as his wet fingers stroke her ass, tease the pink rosebud. “Is this what you need?”
“Please,” she moans. “Please!” He presses into her and she opens her thighs wider, pushes her hips up. His mouth is hungry against her, dragging her up higher, building the pressure. His finger slides in and out of her ass in slow, tortuous strokes.
“Mmm, sweetheart? Is this what you need?”
“Fuck, yes.” The orgasm is powerful and her cunt throbs with it as she pulses around the finger that continues to slide in and out of her ass.
“Good,” he says. “We’re just getting started.”
She closes her eyes, alone in the quiet darkness of her bedroom, waits until the pulsing stops before she turns on her vibrator once more, lets herself sink back into the fantasy and makes herself cum once more.
Thursday, 31 August 2017
A Night at the Opera
“I hate the opera,” grumbled Erica, as she furled and unfurled the two-page program. She had noticed two typos when she skimmed through it. How good could the production be?
As the orchestra tuned up, random notes of mediocre music drifted through the audience, though the term audience was pushing it a bit. Forty-two people in an auditorium that held two-fifty hardly qualified as an audience.
But there it was.
And so was Erica. Sitting in the back row of a near-empty auditorium, waiting for a fat broad with humongous boobs to come out on stage and sing at an octave only dogs would hear. It wasn’t over until she did. That, my friends, is a known fact.
“You agreed to come with me tonight.” Jason’s face was deadpan as he reached over, pressed his hand on her bouncing knee. He pressed just hard enough to make his point. Stop making a scene. Or else.
Erica stilled her leg, slumped back in her seat. She had worn her favorite evening dress—a black mid-thigh flare—and a lacy garter. She had spent thirty minutes on her hair, twenty on her makeup.
For this. This small-town, amateur freak show.
“That’s better.” Jason rewarded her with a light kiss on her cheek as the lights dimmed and the orchestra played the opening notes.
Pouting in the dark, Erica watched performers with worn costumes and tired voices drag through their scenes.
She deserved to be rewarded for this, for sitting through singers that sounded like cats in heat. She deserved to be rewarded for giving in to Jason’s ridiculous whims, his drive to support local arts. She deserved…
Her head swiveled over to him when his hand creeped up her leg, under her dress, fingered the hook of her garter that rested well up her thigh.
Erica smiled into the darkness of the near-empty theater. She swiveled her head back and faced the actors, let her head tilt back and spread her thighs in carefree invitation. Oh, yeah, she deserved this.
Jason’s hand slid up her thigh, his finger grazing the folds of her pussy.
“You’re already wet,” he breathed into her ear as he palmed her.
Two fingers dipped down, came back up—lubed—to stroke her clit. She could only nod as wave after wave of need ripped through her.
“You like when I finger you, don’t you?”
She nodded again. “Don’t stop.” She meant to sound demanding, but it came out more like a whimper.
That didn’t matter. Jason knew what she wanted. He thrust two fingers into her pussy and fucked into her with lightning speed.
The sucking noises of her wet cunt matched the tempo of the music as he pounded his fingers into her. Her moans melted with the aria, seemed to harmonize with the players. And when Jason made her cum, her cries of release were drowned out by the ear-splitting falsetto of the fat lady.
As the orchestra tuned up, random notes of mediocre music drifted through the audience, though the term audience was pushing it a bit. Forty-two people in an auditorium that held two-fifty hardly qualified as an audience.
But there it was.
And so was Erica. Sitting in the back row of a near-empty auditorium, waiting for a fat broad with humongous boobs to come out on stage and sing at an octave only dogs would hear. It wasn’t over until she did. That, my friends, is a known fact.
“You agreed to come with me tonight.” Jason’s face was deadpan as he reached over, pressed his hand on her bouncing knee. He pressed just hard enough to make his point. Stop making a scene. Or else.
Erica stilled her leg, slumped back in her seat. She had worn her favorite evening dress—a black mid-thigh flare—and a lacy garter. She had spent thirty minutes on her hair, twenty on her makeup.
For this. This small-town, amateur freak show.
“That’s better.” Jason rewarded her with a light kiss on her cheek as the lights dimmed and the orchestra played the opening notes.
Pouting in the dark, Erica watched performers with worn costumes and tired voices drag through their scenes.
She deserved to be rewarded for this, for sitting through singers that sounded like cats in heat. She deserved to be rewarded for giving in to Jason’s ridiculous whims, his drive to support local arts. She deserved…
Her head swiveled over to him when his hand creeped up her leg, under her dress, fingered the hook of her garter that rested well up her thigh.
Erica smiled into the darkness of the near-empty theater. She swiveled her head back and faced the actors, let her head tilt back and spread her thighs in carefree invitation. Oh, yeah, she deserved this.
Jason’s hand slid up her thigh, his finger grazing the folds of her pussy.
“You’re already wet,” he breathed into her ear as he palmed her.
Two fingers dipped down, came back up—lubed—to stroke her clit. She could only nod as wave after wave of need ripped through her.
“You like when I finger you, don’t you?”
She nodded again. “Don’t stop.” She meant to sound demanding, but it came out more like a whimper.
That didn’t matter. Jason knew what she wanted. He thrust two fingers into her pussy and fucked into her with lightning speed.
The sucking noises of her wet cunt matched the tempo of the music as he pounded his fingers into her. Her moans melted with the aria, seemed to harmonize with the players. And when Jason made her cum, her cries of release were drowned out by the ear-splitting falsetto of the fat lady.
Wednesday, 30 August 2017
Tied to her
The charity ball went late; the band was pumping music and everyone danced well past two. It was almost three when they got home.
She walked in ahead of him, stopped in the foyer as he let the door close behind him. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he flicked the lock.
Dusky light from the library washed the hall like candlelight.
She reached back, unzipped her dress. She shifted her left shoulder, then the right, let the dress fall down in a puddle around her feet. She took two steps toward him wearing nothing but three-inch stilettos.
He was instantly hard, rubbed a hand against his cock.
A breath apart, she pressed her hand against his. “Let me do that.”
He dropped his hand, but she didn’t replace it. Instead, she dropped to her knees, helped him with his shoes. She unzipped his pants, nudged them down.
“Mmmmm.” She rubbed her cheek against his cock. “You went commando, too.”
She cupped his balls as he stepped out of his pants, swirled her tongue over the head of his cock, relished the fat bead of pre-cum that clung to him. She took him in her mouth, just the head, sucking him as she massaged his sack.
He wanted to take his time, enjoy fucking her mouth, but she felt so god dammed good.
He undid his cuffs, loosened his tie, unbuttoned the collar.
She pulled back with a loud pop. “You can take the shirt off, but leave the tie on.”
He grinned down at her. “If you keep the shoes on.”
She nodded. “Deal.”
She took him in as far as she could, gagged a little. He let his shirt fall to the floor as his head dropped back against the wall and he groaned.
She reached up with one hand to stroke his tie, matching each thrust into her mouth, as if the silk were an extension of his cock.
When he shot down her throat, she yanked hard on the tie, as if she were cumming herself.
She walked in ahead of him, stopped in the foyer as he let the door close behind him. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he flicked the lock.
Dusky light from the library washed the hall like candlelight.
She reached back, unzipped her dress. She shifted her left shoulder, then the right, let the dress fall down in a puddle around her feet. She took two steps toward him wearing nothing but three-inch stilettos.
He was instantly hard, rubbed a hand against his cock.
A breath apart, she pressed her hand against his. “Let me do that.”
He dropped his hand, but she didn’t replace it. Instead, she dropped to her knees, helped him with his shoes. She unzipped his pants, nudged them down.
“Mmmmm.” She rubbed her cheek against his cock. “You went commando, too.”
She cupped his balls as he stepped out of his pants, swirled her tongue over the head of his cock, relished the fat bead of pre-cum that clung to him. She took him in her mouth, just the head, sucking him as she massaged his sack.
He wanted to take his time, enjoy fucking her mouth, but she felt so god dammed good.
He undid his cuffs, loosened his tie, unbuttoned the collar.
She pulled back with a loud pop. “You can take the shirt off, but leave the tie on.”
He grinned down at her. “If you keep the shoes on.”
She nodded. “Deal.”
She took him in as far as she could, gagged a little. He let his shirt fall to the floor as his head dropped back against the wall and he groaned.
She reached up with one hand to stroke his tie, matching each thrust into her mouth, as if the silk were an extension of his cock.
When he shot down her throat, she yanked hard on the tie, as if she were cumming herself.
Tuesday, 29 August 2017
Living Room Sex
A trail of clothes blazed a trail from the front door to the living room.
Naked, Simon dropped onto the sofa, pulled Sharon down with him. He shifted her until she was straddling him, pressed his erection against her clit, sending shock waves through her.
Oh yes, this is what she wanted, what she needed.
Sharon cupped his face with both hands, pressed her mouth against his. Her tongue pushed through his lips, searched out his. His hands clamped around her waist and she rocked, ground her clit against his hard cock, let that familiar heat coil between her legs, spread throughout her body. He matched her tempo, thrusting up to meet her. As she rocked, her hands skimmed over his shoulders, savored how his muscles flexed beneath her touch.
Heat within her grew to an inferno and she dragged her lips along his throat, nibbled just below his ear. She moaned as the pressure built.
“I need you inside me, Simon. Now!”
She rocked up onto her knees, gripped his cock and sank down. She groaned, reveling in the fullness of him inside her. She rose up then slid back down; slow at first, then faster and faster as greed whipped through her. Teetering on the edge, she rode him, fucking him like a piston, chasing the release that was just out of reach. “Please,” she moaned into his ear. “You know what I need.” “Yeah. I know what you fucking need.” Simone brought his fingers to his mouth, soaking them, then reached behind her, pressing a finger into her ass.
"Fuck, yes!" Sharon bowed back as the orgasm ripped through her. “Again. Do it again.”
Oh yes, this is what she wanted, what she needed.
Sharon cupped his face with both hands, pressed her mouth against his. Her tongue pushed through his lips, searched out his. His hands clamped around her waist and she rocked, ground her clit against his hard cock, let that familiar heat coil between her legs, spread throughout her body. He matched her tempo, thrusting up to meet her. As she rocked, her hands skimmed over his shoulders, savored how his muscles flexed beneath her touch.
Heat within her grew to an inferno and she dragged her lips along his throat, nibbled just below his ear. She moaned as the pressure built.
“I need you inside me, Simon. Now!”
She rocked up onto her knees, gripped his cock and sank down. She groaned, reveling in the fullness of him inside her. She rose up then slid back down; slow at first, then faster and faster as greed whipped through her. Teetering on the edge, she rode him, fucking him like a piston, chasing the release that was just out of reach. “Please,” she moaned into his ear. “You know what I need.” “Yeah. I know what you fucking need.” Simone brought his fingers to his mouth, soaking them, then reached behind her, pressing a finger into her ass.
"Fuck, yes!" Sharon bowed back as the orgasm ripped through her. “Again. Do it again.”
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