HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX Chapter 3

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX
Chapter 3
 
I slunk out of the room without another word, my humiliation complete. I recognized that my relationship with Isabel was deviant but I had believed that we were co-conspirators both sharing a common need. I was badly wrong. Our needs were completely different. Hers was a selfish pleasure heightened by her delight in belittling me and mine an unnatural appetite that stripped me of dignity.
 
I had to get away if only for a few days.
 
Mathew would have been upset if I had said that I was flying back to London, my preferred destination, and so, instead, I phoned to tell him that I was going to Seville for a few days. Claire, a contemporary of mine at University, was in the city for a month researching a new book and she had issued an open invitation.  
 
The good thing was that I had already broached the possibility of a visit some days earlier. He seemed put out that I was leaving with such unseemly haste and he asked me if I would wait a day or two to see if he could juggle some free time. I laughed it off and said that it would be just "girl talk" and by lunchtime I was already through Lisbon and well on my way.
 
Claire was as lively and free-spirited as I remembered her and we spent five days visiting galleries and museums and generally enjoying the best that Seville had to offer in the way of bars and restaurants.
 
She seemed surprised at my decision with regard to living with Mathew. She was the same age as me and her published books had made her attractively wealthy but she had no immediate intention of settling down. By the end of my stay I was tempted to sound her out, to get her views on bisexuality.  
 
She was a beautiful woman and, given the circles she moved in, I was sure she must have received propositions from both sexes. I was curious to know how she dealt with it but everything she revealed suggested that she was strictly heterosexual and so I never plucked up the courage.
 
On the journey home I tried to examine my feelings about her, to see if there was any sort of attraction, but there was simply the warmth that one felt from being with a true friend.
 
After the break I felt reinvigorated and ready to face the world. I went out to the studio and fired up my laptop ready to catch up on my e-mails.  
 
The longest message was from my London agent. She told me that I had received two new commissions and that the plans for an exhibition of my paintings at New York's prestigious Lafayette gallery were finalized.
 
Brighten you up by the news I stood up at the window and mouthed a silent cheer. Immediately I did feel slightly embarrassed. Sitting on the grass watching the strange pantomime was Isabel in company with a friend. They were seated in a couple of deckchairs with a bottle of wine between them on a small table.
 
I stepped away from the window but, after a moment's hesitation, I knew I had to be bold. Gathering myself, I went outside and crossed the grass towards them. They were both wearing bikinis and formed a stark contrast.
 
Isabel had chosen black which was nicely set off by her dusky natural coloring while her friend had favored white in keeping with her thick blonde hair and altogether paler complexion.
 
As I approached the blonde smiled displaying a set of perfect teeth.
Is this her?
 
Her accent was of the southern part of USA and I guessed that this must be Pam. Isabel had spoken of her over dinner one night. She was an exchange student spending a year at Isabel's university.
 
Good afternoon girls. May I join you for a minute?
 
Without waiting for a reply I sat down on the grass between them.
It's a beautiful view. The original owner had great taste.
 
A great fortune more likely!
 
Pam laughed at Isabel's remark and I hoped that the ice had been broken. For the next few minutes Isabel gave a brief history of the area and I got the impression that she sided with the peasant farmers who had been displaced to allow the magnificent landscaping that we were now enjoying. As she continued to speak I felt that we had returned to normal.
 
Isabel paused to take a sip of wine and, as she did so, Pam leaned across, her heavy breasts threatening to spill from her barely adequate bikini top.
 
Make her do it. I want to see.
 
Her simple remark hit me like a low blow and I felt myself flush with humiliation.  
 
Obviously Isabel had not been discrete and I wanted the ground to swallow me up mustering up as much dignity as I could as I get up.
 
I'll leave you girls to it.
 
Wait.
 
I froze midway and Isabel stood up in front of me. Without a trace of embarrassment she shimmied, her bikini bottoms down her legs and stepped out of them.
 
I was a deer caught in headlights. I knew I had to flee but I was incapable of movement. She was standing no more than a foot in front of me and she ran her fingers through her nest of curls casually fluffing them.
 
Come and get it.
 
It struck me at that moment. It was not attraction it was debasement. Perhaps I had always harbored latent lesbian desires but they might never have surfaced had Isabel not allied them to her unique brand of imperiousness.
 
I knew Pam was watching, I knew it was so terribly wrong, but I was already bending my knees.
 
"Oh shit!"
 
The expletive came from Pam and I could imagine her incredulity as I put out my tongue and slowly began to lick.
 
To start with Isabel was dry, she was simply proving a point, but after a moment or two I knew I was getting to her. It was then, presumably to im press Pam, that she became theatrical.
 
"Yes...lick it..."
 
Get your tongue in and let's see how deep you can go.
 
With Isabel’s demand I felt myself becoming more aroused and she too was getting hotter.
 
Oh God, I'm creaming come on, I want to hear see you swallow.
 
I did not need to be couch. I had my tongue buried deep and now I sucked the rich essence from her. As I did so she shifted forward pushing me under and bending my neck back but I did not feel the pain.
 
I wanted to make her come, to drain her, and I brought up my hands to hold her to me.  
 
As an artist I preferred the word derrière and hers was perfect. It felt smooth and plump under my touch, so different from a man's coarser musculature. I found myself running my hands appreciatively over her contours even as my tongue continued its greedy assault.
 
Hold still, dam it I muttered.  
 
I remained fixed beneath her, my mouth wide open as her legs shook I felt a hot spurting hit the back of my throat which, once started, seemed never ending she was gasping, no longer master of her own limbs, and with each new jerk of her body I was rewarded with more of her taste.
 
At the end I had to fall back from her as her uncontrolled weight threatened my spine but by then she was completely spent. She slumped back into the deckchair while I knelt on the grass licking my lips like a five dollar whore.
 
I want her to do me.
 
I felt a hot rush of anger. I had brought myself lower than I would have thought possible and I have had enough. I turned to face Pam, the expletive ready on my lips, but I was not prepared for what I would see.
 
At some point she had taken off her bikini and she was now slouched in the deckchair with one leg over each arm. With one hand she was rubbing her impressive breasts while she used the other to open her folds.
 
She was completely shaved but this only served to emphasize the raw pinkness of her inner labia which was already wet with arousal. As soon as I saw her I was lost but she too had picked up on my, hunger.
 
Come over here slut Pam commanded.
 
I went on my knees.
 
Lick it slut.  
 
She used both hands to part herself presenting a dark gash fully illuminated by the overhead sun.
 
I used the flat of my tongue and groaned as I moved over the whole of her slit. Her taste, coming so soon after Isabel, was slightly different. If I had to guess their ages from taste alone I would have chosen Pam as the younger.
 
Bitch hold, me open Pam yelled.
 
I did as she asked whilst she used her own hands to stimulate her nipples. From my vantage point her breasts were broad hillocks surmounted by heavily dimpled nipples which she tugged roughly between her fingertips.

To be continued
 
By nutbuster