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Image for the poem HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX  Chapter 3 0f 8

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX  Chapter 3 0f 8

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX
 Chapter 3

The sight, as I continued to toil between her thighs, increased my own arousal and I wondered if Pam could be counted on to return the compliment. The prospect of having her go down on me encouraged me to try even harder to make her grateful and

I firmed my tongue and pressed it deep inside her.

To my surprise she immediately started to climax. Her body reared up and the arms of the deckchair creaked as she braced herself. Inside, I felt the, now familiar, contractions, around my tongue but she was not nearly as wet as Isabel.
Are you finished?

Isabel sounded almost bored but Pam was not going to let the opportunity slip.
No not yet.

She put her hand to the back of my head painfully entwining her fingers in my hair in the process. She pulled me slightly bringing my mouth to her clitoris. Even with her legs wide spread it remained a shy object and only as I began to lick did I realize that it was not going to put itself fully on display.

I wondered if I was doing something wrong but as Pam, still not fully recovered from her first climax, began to whimper I felt more confident.

That's it right there don't stop.

Her second coming took a lot longer and my tongue felt swollen with effort before she finally exploded.

Yes! Yes. Oh Fuck, yes

She closed her eyes and squeezed her breasts painfully as she submitted to the power of it and then her body went totally limp and only with a painful effort was she able to unhook her legs from the arms of the chair.

I remained close to her, daring to hope, but Isabel spoke once more.

Haven't you got something you should be getting on with?

I looked up at Pam but, as she lazily composed herself, her face held nothing but disdain.

Getting up, I hurried across the lawn to the sanctuary of my studio and it took a moment or two to register what was wrong. Sitting next to my laptop was a cup of coffee now almost cold. It could only have been brought by the cook.

I frantically began to check sightlines but the glass wall was open to the world and there was no way she could have missed what was going on out on the lawn. The question was would she tell Mathew?

Katrina must have been in her late forties and had been with Mathew for years. I had worried when I first arrived that, having served as cook to his first wife, she might play

Mrs. Danvers to my Rebecca but she was a sweet soul with a ready smile and always prepared to go the extra mile.

In earlier years she had been hailed as something of a village beauty and her two darling daughters had inherited the best of her looks. We had even discussed the possibility of them sitting for me one day.

My only hope was that she had been in the room before things had got out of hand.
I had to know.

I went to the sink and cleaned myself up and, having brushed out my hair, I walked back to the house. I entered through the kitchen door but the room was empty and so I walked through to the dining room where I found her laying the table.

I knew, as soon as I saw her, that she had seen everything. Her face expressed both admonition and disappointment. There was no point in beating about the bush.

What are you going to tell him?

She glared at me with her dark eyes and there was a long pause before she spoke.

Tell me, how could you do that to his daughter?

I knew that Isabel got on well with Katrina but it had not occurred to me that her welfare would be her main concern.

Without even thinking I blurted out my angry reply.

She made me do it?

As soon as the words were out my mouth I realized how stupid that sounded. Katrina looked at me with contempt and with a flash of anger she lifted the front of her heavy skirt.

She raises her skirt, you come running?

My eyes dropped to her legs. They were a little stouter now but I could see that her reputation was not unfounded. I was struck by the fact that she was wearing stockings and the white of the nylon and the matching suspenders made for a striking contrast with the tone of her skin which was a shade darker than Isabel's.

I wondered if the wearing of stockings was common amongst older Portuguese women but then I noticed that her panties, which were a sensible everyday design, had a vain edging of pale blue lace.

I quickly looked up but I had let my gaze linger a fraction too long. Without dropping her skirt she interrogated me with her eyes and I felt as if my soul was open to her.
After a few seconds of awkward silence she spoke.

My husband has never done that to me.

I knew that Katrina had married young and so it was not unfeasible that her only experience had been with her husband but I found it harder to believe that someone as spirited, as she had proved herself to be in conversation, would have chosen a man with such masculine prejudices.

Please will you will do it.

I heard the words but for a moment I did not take them in; only when she reached under her skirt to remove her panties did I fully understand.

I was still struggling for words as she calmly sat down in an armchair and opened her legs. The truth was that I could not do it; not because she was the hired help, although that had a strong bearing, it was simply that I had had enough. My mouth and tongue ached from my earlier exertions and I knew I had to get a grip before I slipped irreversibly into a state of self induced psychosis.

With a sudden spark of clarity I knew that it was not going to work with Mathew. Even if

Katrina said nothing I knew that I would have trouble living a continuing lie. However I viewed it recent events had shown, a spotlight into dark recesses of my psyche and I needed to understand what it said about me.

I turned my back on Katrina and walked to the door.

If you don't do this for me, I will tell him.

I was tempted to tell her to do as she wished but, even though my decision was made, I did not want to hurt Mat any more than I had to. It was a galling prospect but it was a price that had to be paid.

I stopped and turned around Katrina looked both surprised and a little nervous and the more so as I stepped towards her. I told myself that it was simply a job that had to be done; no more than five minutes and then I could get on with my life. With that thought I knelt down between her legs and pulled my hair back from my face.

I could almost hear the pounding of her heart as I surveyed her treasure which was covered by a dark mat of curls that made no concession to a bikini line. Like Isabel she had ruddy, protuberant, labia and, as I moved closer, I watched them swell almost imperceptibly.

In an effort to get it over and done with I put out my tongue and licked firmly along the ruffled ridges but as soon as I did so Katrina had to fight back a squeal. I guessed that, now I had actually dared, she was having second thoughts but she opened her legs even wider and I found my tongue sinking into her warm, moist interior.

While Isabel's pussy had the tautness of youth Katrina had borne two children and there was a soft, relaxed, quality as I blindly explored. Even her taste seemed to have a pleasing maturity but I guess this was a trick of the mind.

Now that I was set to my task she began to whisper in Portuguese. I could not understand what she was saying but it almost sounded like a prayer; only later did it occur to me that she was thanking me and begging me not to stop. Not that I wanted to. There was gentleness to this coupling which was oddly soothing and I found myself searching out those spots which brought her the greatest pleasure.

She seemed content to have my tongue deep inside but after a few minutes I felt my sorely abused jaw making a painful protest and I gently eased my way up towards her clitoris.

It was not easy to find and I had to press and part her with my fingers to reveal the hidden pink gem. As soon as I touched her with the tip of my tongue she drew a deep gasping breath and it occurred to me that a man who refused to go down on her had probably never given any thought to clitoral stimulation.

She froze as though the tiniest movement might scare me away which, at that moment, was the last thing that she wanted. I licked gently, barely moving my tongue and her first orgasm came quickly. It reached deep into the core of her and she drew in a series of short sharp breaths without exhaling.

I kept my tongue pressed against her clitoris and could feel the manic pounding of her pulse as well as a warm wetness on my chin.

As it came to an end her body stiffened slightly before relaxing once more but I did not relent. Even before she had descended from the plateau I began to lick again with tiny circular movements.

She gasped in surprise as she comprehended that her body was not completely sated and was capable of more.

Her second climax came more slowly but no less violently and she raised her legs into the air as if to salute its arrival. Her body shook and she issued a quiet oath as her body remained balanced on the verge of cramp before the waves of pleasure dissolved all the tension.

She brought her feet wearily back to the floor and I was aware that the tops of her stockings were darkened with perspiration but I was taken with the spirit of mischief.

I began to lick again over the whole of her slit lapping up the fresh, sour-sweet dew. Still speaking in Portuguese she made a fatigued effort to push me away but I slid my hands underneath her and held her tightly.

For the next few moments I licked gently, probing now and then to gauge the extent of her arousal. It seemed that she might be truly exhausted but then, deep inside, I felt a slight increase in pressure and her taste was noticeably stronger.

The numbness in my neck, jaw and tongue had merged into a single dull ache but she was close and I could not stop. How long had I been on my knees? Forty minutes?
Perhaps more, it did not matter.

"Agora...for favor..."

She was ready and I knew what she wanted. Once again I switched my attention to her clitoris, stretching her open with my fingers while I darted my tongue in and out with rapid teasing flicks.

This time, as she came, she closed her legs about my head and squeezed painfully as she drew up the final vestiges of pleasure from the very depths. I felt her fear that she might fail, that she might collapse with the summit tantalizingly within reach, but with a final screaming effort she reached the top of the world.

I swallowed her last offering and then her legs went limp. Looking up I found that she had fainted and with a satisfied smile I got up and left her in her state of sexual content.


By nutbuster
Written by nutbuster (D C)
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