Bruise Ban

I'm on a one week bruise ban. From Sunday to Friday, I've sworn of bruises. No biting, no choking. Just gentleness. 

I know, I don't like it either, but I have to do a medical thing on Friday morning... It wouldn't look good.

Tonight I caught up with my friend who chokes me sometimes. I explained the ban.

Tonight we ended up kissing, watching a movie. Touching gently. We curled up on the couch, my legs over his lap, him pulling me in. Kissing my lips and cheeks and neck. Running his fingertips through my hair, looking at my face and smiling.

It was all quite sweet...

We wandered into the bedroom, and he undressed me really slowly. He unclipped my new bra, and slipped the matching black and gold lace panties to the floor. He lay me back on the bed, and pinned my legs slightly apart between his. 

He stroked my clit softly, looking to my eyes, watching my breathing. My legs trembled as I came. He pushed me close to coming then slowed down just a tad. Leaving me squirming and desperate. By the time he was on top of me I was wet, desperate. Wanting his chest pressed against mine, with his cock deep inside me.

He kissed me, putting on the condom carefully, then slipped his cock inside me carefully, watching my eyes as he did. His fingers dug into my sides a little, pleasure evident on his face.

I started to come, it only took two minutes with him inside me to get there. He pushed in and out, comfortably, my legs shaking just a little. I came, digging my fingers into his back... 

He kissed me as I came. He pushed me really hard at one point, and I came so hard I could actually feel my wetness dripping. My heart raced.

He stroked my neck softly as I came. No pressure, just a trigger to help push me up over the edge again.

Then he stopped.

I don't mean came, he pulled out, curled up next to me and kissed my neck.

I suggested we should continue and he said it was ok. As though he didn't want to. 

Maybe I've lost my touch?

Too Far

I think I might have pushed it too hard.  As my friends neighborhoodmilf and thebeatgoes pointed out in the comments from yesterday.

Thanks for the reality check guys.

The lightheadedness isn't clearing as easily as usual, and it hurts when I swallow. Yes - if it gets worse I'll see a doctor (I'll even tell them how I got the bruises).

For now, rest, warm tea, relaxation.

Today my best friend is coming over for lunch, hair stroking, and cuddles. I think I'm feeling a little emotionally neglected and need to spend some quality time with people who get me. 

In exciting news, I got an email from a friend. He's been off the grid in Paris for a couple of months now. Only a couple of emails in months and months. I'm so delighted to have heard from him. 

So here is to me accepting my limits, to lovely emails, and a day of Quentin Tarantino movies!

Thanks for the reality checks sometimes.

Love, 

SSB

P.S. NeighborhoodMilf writes a really amazing, really edgy blog. Hit her up here: milflife.blogspot.com.au.

BabyFace

I hurt someone a long time ago. I was inconsiderate. I was mean.

I expressed contrition.

Then I hurt him again.

I expressed contrition. I apologised, not just to him, but to our friends.

Then I hurt him again.

And on it went. Over and over. Seven or eight months.

I was mean.

I could make so many excuses for my inexcusable behaviour. There are many reasons. I shan't try to justify it today though.

I was 22, he was just a baby. 19. I got drunk and kissed him one night. We ended up in bed together. I remember this moment vividly.

He was on top of me, we were naked. He kissed me and I held his face, stroked his cheek with one hand. I said these words:

"No matter what happens, I'll never love you."

Then he pushed his hard cock inside me for the first time.

That time ended with me on my stomach, wrists pinned against the small of my back, his other hand around my neck, forcing my face into my bed. I think he spat on my cheek. He fucked me harder and harder. The sunlight streaming in my bedroom window. We'd fucked for hours.

We bought take away, sitting on the floor of my apartment in our underwear and t shirts, talking. We hung out. We worked together. We flirted. I teased him. I played quite the coquette. 

He got sick of it one night at work, slammed my chest against the counter. He spanked my ass. Over and over. 

We played and played and played.

We'd kiss at work when no one was watching. We'd go clubbing and he'd stand next to me and stroke my ass through my dress, pulling my panties tight around my pussy. We'd sit next to each other at dinners. Then we'd sneak home together... and he'd fuck me hard. 

I didn't love him. He loved me though. And I knew it. I just didn't care.

At my birthday party, it all finally came to a head. I was kissing Bee (his best friend). I kissed another guy.

He finally cracked under the stress. He walked out. He sent me a message. Telling me we couldn't be friends any more. Telling me he couldn't stand to see me the way he had. That me not caring was too hard. He changed work shifts to get away from me. He stopped visiting during my shifts. He vanished. He deleted me off Facebook. Gone. 

Fifteen months of total silence. Not a whisper. After three years of speaking virtually every day. Silence. 

The silence was deafening at first. Something would happen and I'd think of him. I'd pull out my phone... only to realise I'd deleted his phone number.

Time went on. I'd hear the occasional whisper. Our friends to this day call him "Your Boy" to me. He was my boy. BossMan would lecture me. Telling me over and over to call him and apologise. I wouldn't do it though. I didn't want to make him hurt more. 

And so on it went.

Then out of the blue, he sent me an email about tax. Tax. Of all fucking things. Tax. I replied with a polite thank you, and an inquiry as to how he was.

The conversation grew. 

Best of all, I apologised. He accepted it too.

I nearly cried reading the words we shared. Not something I do often. But I'm filled with this sensation, maybe I'm softening. Maybe I'm starting to care. Regardless, I like it.

Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. - Mark Twain

Bee

There was a girl. Once upon a time. She was a very good friend of mine.


We met while I worked with her best friend.


Over time him and I became very close. Sleeping together a few times. Him and I were incompatible. I was in my 23 and sleeping with a teenager. Granted he was 18, but I still felt a little... strange. Younger man and all.


He eventually fell in love, I invariably didn't. He sent his best friend, Bee, to do recon. Our group of friends, her now included, ended up drinking together, partying together, her working her way through my defences at his request, to seek information about why I didn't feel the same.


Eventually I came to trust her and I laid it out for her. He was trying to make me be his mother, and I wasn't ready for a teenage child.


She explained this to him, over and over and over. Painfully. Breaking his heart repeatedly. I broke it over and over. The kid was a masochist. He kept coming back, and I'd serve him up a fresh plate of heart ache. 


She got angry with him, resenting him putting himself in the position to have his heart broken. She ended up bonding with me over our mutual dislike of kicking this kid when he was down.


Our bond over hurting him was strangely compelling. She took to spending girls nights at my house, watching action movies, playing guitar hero. We spent Friday through Sunday together. Sometimes more. 


She's taller than me. I'd guess 168 cm tall. Average build, but muscular. Large firm breasts, light brown hair, green eyes. Her eyes are a little more hazel than mine.


She was sleeping with a guy. An engaged guy with a pregnant fiance. They'd been sneaking around for sometime. Eventually she broke it off with him. I picked up the pieces of her broken heart, lying naked in my backyard, bathing in the sunshine of late spring. Months went by. Three days a week, we'd sunbathe and talk.


With how close we'd become, and the public knowledge that we were both bisexual, rumours started. Whispers. People would stare and wonder. 


She was an exhibitionist. She revelled in the attention. She'd walk up behind me in front of our mutual friends and slip her hands around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. Brushing my hair off my cheek. She loved to tease them. Torture them. 


One night, we'd been out partying. It had been a long night. Her, my boss and I wound up catching a taxi to my place for a nightcap. Nothing unusual, really. 


He made a joke about us being sexy lesbians. She kissed me, just to tease him. He was in a committed relationship. He wouldn't touch us. She was just being a tease. 


"You're bad" he remarked. 
"Yes, she is" Bee agreed.


She pushed me back in a chair opposite him, getting down on all fours. Looking over her shoulder, ass exposed a little because of her short dress.


"Should I lick her?" she asked. "Maybe I should punish her for being naughty with my tongue."


He froze. Stunned. I looked at her eyes wide. She winked. I wasn't sure if she was serious or playing. Either way, I was wet. 


She licked my lace panties with her tongue. I shivered slightly. 


"Look him in the eye" she whispered in a firm voice. Barely audible, but the directness was unmistakeable.


I obeyed instantly.


I looked him dead in the eye, and she immediately reached inside my lace panties, pushing two fingers straight inside me and as she got all the way in, she applied pressure to my clit with her thumb.


I shook immediately. The eye contact between BossMan and I wasn't breaking. She licked my clit softly, flicking it. I came in seconds. 


He sat there. Staring at us. 


That's how it all started.


She took to teasing me in public. Spanking me sometimes, kissing my neck, nibbling my ears, stroking the back my thighs under a skirt.


She pushed me into the store room at work. One night she even kissed me in front of her heartbroken best friend, just because she could. She wasn't always nice, but she was always a tease.


We ended up close. Very close. A perfect understanding. At night, sometimes we'd watch a movie, sometimes we'd fuck. But every day, we'd end up naked in my yard, talking together, lying in the sun. 


Months went past. The lazy spring weather of October turned to a chilly Autumn in April. The sunshine days were fewer.


My birthday came. We kissed, we partied. She pinned my wrists against a wall in a pub and let a very beautiful lesbian kiss me, tease me. Bee knew how to drag me outside my comfort zone. Make me feel beautiful and dirty in the same heartbeat.


We spent the night apart. Her best friend having a final breakdown at seeing us together. He's never spoken to me since.


During the cooler months of that Autumn, she fell in love. She fell in love with a guy who controlled her. So she lied, manipulated, cheated. I helped her. I gave her alibis, I manipulated his trust. Even though he considered me a friend.


Her and I stopped sleeping together, we just kept teasing guys occasionally. Just for fun. I was happy to help her get her exhibitionist fix.


One day he caught on. He realised I knew more than I'd let on.


He caught me by the wrist, put me on the spot and asked me a question I couldn't cover. The time it took me to think of a good answer was too long, the lie obvious. 


Caught in the depths of her bad lies, tangled in more than a year of deceit. I let it slip. I told him some of the truths. Since the day I told him a whisper, she's not said a word.


I don't miss her for the sex as much as I miss her for the companionship. For the fun. For her big hazel-green eyes and beautiful smile. 


Don't you wish sometimes that you could just fix it? Even when you can't.

A Quiet Week And A Hectic Memory...

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"I Love Your Pretty Lips Around My Cock"

"I love your pretty lips around my cock" he whispered. I love MarriedGuy. 

Technically he's not married (yet). Him and his fiance are walking down the aisle soon. I'm going to the wedding. I'm even participating in their wedding. I know. Lecture away. 

His wife to be is a frigid bitch. Actually, she's really nice. But she hates sex, hates sucking his cock, hates giving him handjobs. I think she just fucking hates cock. I'm not sure that she's actually gay, I think she's probably closer to asexual.

I however love his cock. It's a good size (not so big that it makes head difficult, but big enough that when he pushes me down a little I gag).

Tonight we were chatting away happily. She's at home with the baby. I walked him out to the car to say goodbye. I leaned against him hugging him close. "I miss you" I said. It was true; I do miss him. I miss that we used to see each other twice a week. Now we catch up once a month. Usually with his fiance there too. It's still fun, we're still super close. Just not like it was...

He leaned in and rested his chin on my shoulder. "I know, I miss you too" he whispered in my ear. His lips brushed my earlobe. We stood hugging, me leaning into his body. He smelt like a perfect cologne. It suits him.  He asked how I was. I told him that Punk was gone. That I was weighing up seeing him again (also true). That I wasn't sure how I felt about Punk (once again true). I told him (most of) the details of what happened with Punk. That he was gone for another month.

"You'll figure it out" he said, then kissed me gently on the lips. I leaned back and smiled. He pulled me in again and kissed me harder. I reached down and rubbed his cock through his pants. I felt that it was already hard pressed against his tight black jeans. 

He reached into his pocket a moment later, clicked the button for his locking system, and swung me around so my back was against the body of the car, opening the back door with his other hand. "Get in" he whispered, spinning me around again so my ass was pressed against his body. I climbed in and scooted across to the far seat. He climbed in next to me.

He kissed my neck and ear, rubbed my breasts. He kissed me softly. I rubbed his chest. He told me how alone he felt. I sighed. I was feeling hooked on Punk and the things he'd done to me. I needed a break from how I felt. 


I kissed his neck, I kissed his chest. I unzipped his pants, pulling his cock free. It's a good cock. I've never actually fucked him. Just oral. I wasn't up for oral that night, so I just made myself comfortable, rubbing his cock over my lips.


While I caressed him gently with my lips, he stroked my breasts and ass, varying his hands between the two. Occasionally pausing at my hair. He ran his fingertips down my spine. Just to make me shiver. I love that feeling. That little rush of endorphins. That shiver of glee. Knowing in a few moments I'd be working his cock up and down with my lips and both hands.

He was excited before I got all of him in my mouth. I knew it had been too long. He softly stroked my hair. He rubbed my back and leaned back and enjoyed it. I worked his cock comfortably. I knew exactly what I was doing. I knew how he liked it. Slow at first, building speed, friction, intensity. He reached climax fast. He tapped my neck softly with two fingers, telling me he was about to come. I pushed down, so his cock was deep in the back of my throat and he came hard straight away. And that was when he said it. Before I even had his cock out of my mouth


"I love your pretty lips around my cock"


I curled up. Rested my head on his chest. We rested in the silence of the moment. 


I told him how I was feeling about life, about how Punk had kinda messed with my juju a little lately. He told me how it was to be a dad, and how it was to nearly be married. I promised to help with wedding decorations. His future wife would be thrilled. He promised to visit me more. I was thrilled. He kissed my hair softly.


I told him how I felt about Punk. How did I feel then? Last night is a very long time ago. I felt like... like we'd ripped each others hearts out so many fucking times it wasn't ever going to work out. Like it was impossible for either of us to take a step forward towards communicating honestly. Like I was hung up on hating him all the while wishing he'd want more.


Like part of me wanted to feel something for him. Part of me wondered if I could feel something for him. All that unfulfilled promise. 


MarriedGuy told me so many sweet things. How I'm exceptional, but too manly for most guys to handle. How I needed to get past my issues with Punk because - like it or not - there was too much history. If I was that bothered about letting it go, make a move. How if I was so uncertain maybe there was a sign in that.


Music played. The volume increasing. I was lying on the vibrations. I pulled MarriedGuys phone from his pants, handing it to him. His future wifes smiling face on the screen. "Hi honey... no it's ok, I'm at SSB's house... I'll grab tea on the way home... Tell baby I love him... ok honey.... I love you too..."


He kissed me softly after he hung up from her phone call. I knew he only had another 10 minutes to spare. He pulled his pants up. I think the phone call had him feeling a little uncomfortable.


We cuddled in peace, then said goodbye a few minutes later. "You'll be right, you're the toughest bitch I know" he said. I laughed. I'm only short and I'm not exactly muscular, but we weren't talking about physically.


My phone was vibrating on the counter when I got inside. 


PUNK: 6 NEW MESSAGES
(s)Ex: 1 NEW MESSAGE
LONG: 1 NEW MESSAGE
RED: 2 NEW MESSAGES


Anyone would think I'd been in the car a week.


I started at the bottom. Red's back in town, volunteered to do me a favour while he's here. I texted back yes. He told me how happy he is with his new girlfriend too. I told him I'm happy for him. Secretly? I'm counting the minutes until he cheats on her.


Long is on holidays. Just wanted to see how I'm getting on. Fine I say. Hangs when he gets home? Yes. We're in a friends-only place now.


(s)Ex asking me questions about Game of Thrones. Yes, we'll catch up next week. I don't think sex is on the cards though after a minor freakout and calling me his (other) ex-girlfriends name in a drunk panic.


Now to Punk... he's at the pub, he misses me, he wants to hook up when he gets back to town, he sends me a photo of his beer, reminds me that I can still drink him under the table. I text back a single message about him being a boozy floozy, tell him to call me when he's done at the pub.


He obliges. We chatter. He cracks a harsh joke about how I declined a date with him this week. Strictly speaking it was a misunderstanding. He complained that he had no one to go and have tea and play pool with, I said I'd go with him, he said pool was a cool date, I wrote back lol yeah i guess so, he cracked a joke about me asking him on a date, I told him to go fuck himself. 


I bit. "I didn't decline a date, you didn't fucking ask me on one" I snapped.
"Well...umm"
He freezes.


Silence.


Awkwardness.


I'm feeling irritated "What did you expect me to say in that instant? If you LIKED me like that then you'd ask. There's no point in asking"
"Oh because you know me so well" he snaps back
"Well, how DO you feel" I snipe


Silence.


"I like you" he whispers
"Great. I like you too. I'm glad we've established friendship."
"You're being a cunt. I actually want to try. And you know it"


Silence


"What?" I ask confused.
"I like you, I want to try this time and be with you. I want to make it work. We always fuck it up. This time, I want to try. I've always loved you. I still do. We don't always have to be a trainwreck. I know there are some things to figure out, things to talk about, but I want you. Good parts and bad parts. I just want you."


Silence.


"You can't just..." I start
"I can just. I want you. I want to know if you feel the same?"
"Ask me tomorrow morning when you've not been drinking." I stammer out. I'm buying myself time.
"Deal, Miss. Talk to you then."


He hangs up.


I sit. I obsess. I worry.


I think...


I worry.


Yes. I'll try. No. I won't. Yes... No...


I barely sleep.


BEEP BEEP. 5.20AM my phone calls for attention. The screen lights up.


PUNK: 1 NEW MESSAGE
"Sorry for calling you last night. I remember that we talked, but I have no idea about what. Sorry. Talk later."


Talk later means not today.


So here I am. 


Your still-single SSB. The magic charm for keeping away commitment. 

Feeling sentimental

This is for my best friend, you may have read about him the other day, I called him Long.


Him and I were a couple - he turned out gay after two and a bit years. But we wound up best friends.


I've known him ten years, we've lived together for six of those years. We've done everything together for the last six years. I can't tell him about this blog - it's my only secret.


But about him.


I met him ten years ago, he was dating a friend of mine. He cheated on her. His best mates girlfriend. His girlfriends best friend. Ugh. Long and his best mate were dating two best friends. He slept with the girl from the other couple. In his best mates car. He was caught - of course - by his girlfriend and his best mate, dick inside the other chick.


Disaster.


Had it not been for that moment, we'd never have ended up as close friends. Then he was silly enough to dick another friend of mine. That's another disaster.


But when we got together, he took me out to dinner, bought me sake, we ate Korean grill. We laughed for two days. We went on a road trip. We fell in love on our first date. 


We have barely spent a night apart since. Even now, we split up, we still spend as much time together as we can.


So here's to you Long. Some of my favourite memories. 


One night, I spent hours with him tied to my bed, teasing him, playing with him, running ice over his body. Touching him with pieces of silk cloth. Licking him. Teasing him. Blind folding him. I tortured his quivering body for hours. Hour after hour. I sucked him until he was close then let him relax. After hours of teasing, I got on top and rode him so hard. I slipped his blindfold off, looked deep into his eyes. Rocking hard on his cock, I squirted for the first time ever that night. By the time we were finished it was six am. We worked the next day. Exhausted, but sexually satisfied and in love. Deeply.


A while later, I experimented with him, I gagged him, buckled myself into a strap on, and fucked him like a little bitch. I had him on his knees in front of me, my thick black plastic cock, hilt deep in his ass, him working his ass up and down, me with my hand wrapped in his hair. He begged to come. I denied him. He begged harder. I denied him. I pulled out, made him go down on me. I came. When he tried to fuck me, I put him on his knees on the floor, pushed his face into the carpet and shoved that cock back in his ass. He couldn't help it that time, he came. So I spanked him. I spanked him so hard. I put him across my knee and spanked him like a naughty little school girl.


Later, he grew as a person, and when he was a little more mature I let him fuck me in the ass a few times. He was good that way - long cock nice and deep. He was always rough during and gentle afterwards. The best combination. He loved when I'd suck his cock afterwards. Just like I made him suck my black plastic one so many times.


I played dress ups for him a few times. He came home and found me dressed as a nurse with a stethoscope. I took his temperature (the old fashioned way...) then he spanked me with a paddle telling me I was a naughty naughty nurse.


Him and I used to get so horny, we would be late everywhere. And whenever we were out we couldn't help but end up in the back of a car or in a toilet together somewhere. So many times he pushed me up onto the counter of a bathroom sink, licking my pussy with his hand over my mouth so I wouldn't scream...


So here's to you old friend. To all the times we played those games and all those stories we collected. To the dozens of times we fucked all day, and the hundreds we fucked all night. To all those times you made me smug with satisfaction when I'd be so satisfied I could barely breathe. To all those times since we split that I realised I was still lucky to have you as my bestest friend.


Love you Long. 


xxSSB

Long and Hard

So before I blow my birthday candles out this weekend, I feel like I could celebrate a few of the amazing sexual experiences I've had. 


I have a beautiful friend. He's tall, fire-red hair and bright blue eyes. Strong hands. Him and I spent hours and hours, night after night, walking a small out in the middle of nowhere bush cemetery. It was the nearest to my house. It was pitch black. So dark we could barely see where we were going. So dark that in the darkest corners of the place we couldn't see eachother. And in the night sky, in the wrongest of places, where we could hear each others heart beats and feel a cool Autumn breeze, he'd spend hours in me under the stars. 


It wasn't hard and rough. It wasn't aggressive. It was strong and passionate and intense. The location, whilst taboo, irrelevant. It was just the only place we could count on for privacy at night. We'd stretch out, on the hood of his car, a few hundred metres from the road, in a cemetery off the side of a highway, the cool metal against my ass. There are many things I could say about this guy. Probably one of the ones that springs to mind so often is he had the most beautiful cock. It was long and thick and hard. And with him in between my sixteen year old thighs, it was enough to send me home bruised. He couldn't have been rougher with me without tearing me, I was so young and so fresh that the first few minutes he was so big that even with oral sex, would cut like a knife inside me. His strong hands would always fill me with confidence, and with in minutes, my screams would be lost in the dark cemetery. No one for miles around to hear me scream his name as I came. Over and over and over. We're still friends now. Occasionally still naked friends. 


I spent so many nights with him, while he was with his last lady.  Seven years they were together. The day that she agreed to be his girlfriend, he celebrated with me on my hands and knees in the back of his car. We were laying naked intwined, him still inside me, his come still sticky on my thighs where it had leaked out. "I met this chick, I've been seeing her for a while, I think it's serious" he said. We talked about it naturally, I wasn't angry. He drove me home and kissed me goodbye. "I'll see you in a week" he said.


And so he did. And on and off for the next seven years, he played "cricket", and went "bowling" and "rock climbing" and "fixed friends cars" and "worked extra hours" and was "called in for a work emergency". 


Seven whole years.


She dumped him for cheating. A sin he'd confessed to.  He DELIBERATELY let her find out.  The woman? Not me! An ex-girlfriend. 


Other nights with him were spent on a jetty, having sex over the water. Or strolling down by the sea, until he'd eventually find something to bend me over and force his fingers roughly inside me. And after six years of sex in the most unusual of places, he spent a full night in my bed. 


We never really thought we'd end up together. Not for a moment. I'm in love with part of him though. It's about 27cm long, and I still can't get my hand around it.


I cheated on three guys with him. I don't know how many girlfriends he cheated on with me. 


One night, we had a threesome with a girl we both knew once upon a time. My former best friend.
We'd been at my best friends boyfriends party. A long fucking night, and they'd bickered. For a new couple, these two fucking hated each other. So, faithful as ever, Red came and partied with us for a little while. He took us back to his beach house, and we were all lying on the fold out couch. 


My best friend made the first move. She started rubbing his leg. I didn't really care. She could fuck him if she wanted. She made a habit of interfering with things she thought were mine. And whilst he was someone elses boyfriend, he was there because I'd asked him to be. So in her crazy head he was mine.


She started kissing me - not a first for us (we'd slept together a hundred times). We opened a couple of beers, we got down on our knees in front of him. I was 16 and she was 17 or 18. Two teenage girls looking up at him. He barely lasted a minute with us both licking and sucking. Kissing each other, his cock between our lips, our tongues touching and grazing over each other.


He relaxed and watched, urging her to push her tongue between my legs. We took each others clothes off. The secret to an FFM threesome isn't the quality of the sex, it's in the theatre of the sex. It's about a man enjoying the visual of two women, so to take her bra off, I kneeled behind her, running my tongue over her smooth ass cheek as I unhooked it. Standing up, kissing her neck making eye contact with him. Then I slipped her two shoulder straps off her shoulders. She knew the game, and didn't let it fall until I had both hands inside the pink lace. I danced around in front of her, sucking one nipple, running my fingertip down her collarbone, over her chest, over her nipple. He watched, to suck her other nipple, I exaggeratedly bent over, in my panties and bra, keeping my heels on to keep my ass higher in the air. 


Not many nights do things look like porn, but this was one of those nights. We were dressed to kill, our hair was styled, our make up perfect. Our heels were neckbreakingly high. We played our theatrical games. Her getting down on her knees, me lying back on the couch propped up and her licking the outside of my wet panties. Her tongue was poked out far, to exaggerate the action. Her big blue eyes looked up at me, my green eyes were focussed on him.


I wish I could narrate what happened next more accurately, but we toyed with each other. We stripped down to our panties, and toyed with each other, keeping him from seeing too much to drive him wild.  


There came a moment, when we'd toyed far enough and he leapt between us, through us on the bed. He tore my panties off first, dragging me by the hips and lying me flat. He grabbed her and pushed her up to my face, she climbed on top, pushing her wet pussy onto my lips. She came, her pussy juice leaking onto my face. She moaned hard when she came again. She started to shake. 


I pushed them both off me, pushing her onto her back, I knelt with my knees on the edge of the bed, pushing two fingers inside her and licking hard, I wanted her to scream. I knew her body, I knew I could push her to the point that she'd beg me to let her rest. He pushed his cock in me from behind, and by standing on the floor behind me, he could see every movement of her breasts, shaking with orgasms, my head between her legs and my hand, dextrously playing with her g spot. She was screaming. I would have been too if I hadn't been sucking on her clit so hard.


I was exhausted and needed a position change. We swapped. I climbed up so he could lick my pussy while he lay on his back and she rode his cock. I knew she was surprised by how big he was, I could hear her whimper with a little discomfort. She was a slut - even by my standards, but we both knew this was the biggest cock she'd ever seen. 


She rode him hard, screaming his name, him licking me hard, me moaning and screaming his name too.


She was exhausted, and went to the kitchen, and so he climbed on top of me, and pulled my legs up over his shoulder, his bright blue eyes gazing into my green, his hands holding on my shoulders, pushing deep inside me, he came. He came deep inside me. Kissing my cheek he climbed off. 


He begged us to both put our heads on his chest as we fell asleep, so he could doze with two girls on his chest. Her red hair meshed against mine died black our long long hair tangled.