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Image for the poem HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX Chapter 4 of 8

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX Chapter 4 of 8

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX
Chapter 4 of 8


Back in my room I was overcome by a feeling of self-loathing. There was no doubt that Katrina had coerced me but I had taken control of the situation and enjoyed doing it. The pretense that I only did these things because I was told to was proving to have a shaky foundation.

I sobbed myself into a fitful sleep and when I awoke I phoned Mathew and told him I would meet him in town for dinner. As I got ready I fretted about how I would break the news to him and, more than once, I wondered if I was making the right decision.

As it happened, by the time evening came, I could hardly talk. My jaw was stiff and my tongue swollen and eating was out of the question. Mathew was almost painfully concerned and insisted that I see his doctor. The following morning I felt a little better but I played out the charade. Based on my symptoms, and I threw in a headache for good measure, the doctor diagnosed neuralgia and prescribed some painkillers.

Mathew was so good about my state of health that I could not bring myself to tell him straight away and when he suggested that I spend a couple of days at the beach house to recuperate I simply took the easy option.

Strictly speaking, the beach house belonged to Isabel. Mathew had had it built for his first wife on the secluded beach front just north of the Cap de Roca but, on her death, she had bequeathed it to her daughter

Mathew said that he had to go back to Stuttgart to deal with a complication and he would try and join me later and so I set off alone on the half hour drive. Having stopped off along the way for some provisions I arrived late in the afternoon.

The house was a simple adobe affair with a single large room on the ground floor giving on to a wooden deck built into the sand. Upstairs there were two bedrooms and a bathroom with wonderful views out to sea.

The house was a little musty when I arrived but with the patio doors open and the help of a mild sea breeze it was soon aired. Without waiting to put away the shopping I changed into my swim suit and waded out to sea where, for the next twenty minutes, I swam a vigorous front crawl.

Back at the house I felt so much better and, after a long shower, I put together a simple salad and opened a bottle of wine. By the time I had drunk half a bottle it was still early evening but I went upstairs and lay on the bed armed with a copy of the latest Booker prize winner.

I had hardly started on it before my eyes began to close and I gave in to a deep sleep. When I awoke it was to find that night had fallen but the temperature still felt up above twenty degrees. As I slowly came to I tried to sit up but found that I could not move. I had a momentary fear of being caught in a dream state but a sharp pain as I jerked my arms confirmed that I was fully awake.

The room was lit by rippled moonlight reflected on to the ceiling from the sea but there was enough illumination for me to see that my wrists and ankles had been secured to the four corners of the bed with large white ribbons.

Had I been bound with ropes I would have feared the worst, not that the beach house had much to offer an intruder, but the ribbons brought to mind gift wrapping and my immediate thought was that Mathew had returned and decided to set up a surprise.
The problem was that his sexual proclivities had never hinted at an interest in bondage.

As I pondered my situation I began to pull at my bindings but, innocuous as they looked, they proved to be extremely effective. After a minute or two I was starting to panic but then I heard a car on the graveled approach. I remained still and as I strained my ears, the sound of laughter was carried to me on the breeze.

Shortly afterwards I heard movements downstairs and I debated whether or not to shout out but to do so may have been inviting trouble. As I continued to listen someone turned on the stereo and a drum and bass rhythm pervaded the house.

For the next ten minutes I listened to the hypnotic pulse which was punctuated, from time to time, by further bursts of laughter, and then, suddenly, I heard footsteps on the stairs and the bedroom light was switched on. For a second I was blinded but as my vision returned to normal it was to find Isabel hovering over me.

Somehow I knew it would be her. The whole scenario was too daring for Mathew and I could not bring myself to believe that outsiders were involved.

I have to say it was something of a surprise to find you here, so much so that I thought we might have a little party.

Isabel, a joke's a joke, now let me go.

You don't mean that? You wouldn't want to be a spoilsport would you? You're the star of the show.

I was about to curse her when she picked up a pair of scissors and I waited for her to cut my bindings.

What are you doing!?

She took hold of my sundress and slipped the scissors under the hem. With a few quick cuts the dress was in tatters and she yanked it from me like a conjurer performing a trick.
Now I did start to swear but I could do nothing to stop her as she proceeded to cut away and ruin my underwear.

Come back here!

She simply laughed as she walked out of the room leaving me completely, and vulnerably, naked.

Over the next hour I struggled fruitlessly to try and loosen my restraints all the time listening to the sound of ever more lively laughter which drifted up the stairs. I was hot and angry when, finally, I heard footsteps.

Isabel came into the room followed by Pam and two other girls.
Isabel, untie me. This stops right now!

She made no move to release me. She stepped to one side and made introductions as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.

I'd like you to meet my cousin, Kyla, and my friend Bernice.
Kyla could have been Isabel's sister. She looked to be a few years older but the family resemblance was unmistakable. Bernice, hanging back slightly, formed a complete contrast. She had a pretty face framed by a bobbed Titian hair style. Where the others wore bikinis with sarongs she wore a simple blue sun dress that flattered her ample frame.

She reminded me of someone and it took a moment to click. She was a younger version of the upcoming American opera singer Suzanne Bales whom I had seen performing in Dallas. Like the singer she was large breasted but she had the same dignified carriage that exuded pride in her body image.

Who's going first?

Isabel addressed the others as though I had not even spoken and Pam, without a hint of embarrassment, stepped forward.

Me, I'm dying for it.

I watched in shocked silence as she unfastened her loosely tied sarong and let it fall to the floor to be quickly followed by the same white bikini that she had worn at our previous meeting.

Get off of me!

I struggled violently as she casually climbed onto the bed and pinned my shoulders with her knees but it was a forlorn resistance. With her weight bearing down on my chest I was left looking straight between her thighs where her hairless crotch was already glistening with excitement.

I'm warning you. I will hurt you.

Pam was unfazed by my threat.

Don't be coy. You know you can't wait for it.

I wrenched my legs uselessly in a failed effort to unseat her but I was determined to use my teeth as a last resort. I braced myself as she edged forward but then I gasped as I felt someone's hand on my sex. I could not tell who it was but within seconds a knowing finger was caressing my slit.

Pam looked down into my eyes and smiled as she saw the effect it was having on me.
If you're a good girl you might just enjoy it.

I tried to focus my anger, to remind myself that they were abusing me, but the finger continued its perceptive probing and with every passing second it became well, oiled movement.

I found myself trying to lift my hips to encourage an even more intimate engagement but as quickly as it had begun the hand was withdrawn.

Please!

I hated myself for surrendering but, in that brief space of time, I had been stimulated in
a way that no man had ever come close to this was, Pam's cue. She shifted up onto my face with her shave mound over my mouth.

You know what you have to do.

I did not think twice out popped my tongue and began to lick with broad sweeps of my tongue over the whole of her plump mound while keeping my hips raised in expectation of that delicious touch.

At first I was denied and I wanted to plead but Pam's pussy was effectively gagging me. She was growing more excited and I could feel her slowing parting, encouraging my tongue to go deeper into her hot wetness.

She gave a low whimper and this acknowledgement of my efforts triggered my reward.

I felt a pressure between my legs and then the anonymous fingers began to weave their magic again.

Now it was my turn to groan and the vibrations resonated against Pam's labia bringing
her closer to the edge. Soon afterwards she tensed and lifted slightly confusing me slightly but then she came to rest once more with her clitoris centered between my lips and the message was clear.

I began to lick at the tender bud but I was finding it harder to concentrate as I felt a single finger being pressed slowly and deeply inside me heading unerringly for my g spot. I was breathing raggedly but this too acted as a stimulus for Pam. Her body began to quake, her thighs slapping gently against my cheeks, and suddenly she was exploding with series of almost silent cries.

As the waves receded I tensed myself for my own climax but, as Pam reluctantly climbed off of me the pressure between my legs eased and I was left high and dry.

I raised my head to see which of the three had been my tormenters but even as Pam rose from me Kyla slipped into her place.

She was naked and her body was lither than Pam's but, as she came to rest over my face, her olive complexion somehow made me feel claustrophobic and I began to squirm.

Now don't be like that...I've been looking forward to this.
Kyla's pussy was delineated by a coarse Mohican of black hair and she began to brush herself irritatingly across my lips.

Come on. Don't be a tease lick me.

I closed my mouth, refusing to co-operate, but then I felt the teasing finger begin to trace a slow pattern on my inner thigh. I turned my leg outwards to try and make my slit more available but the message was clear, if I did not do that was wanted of, me there would be no reward.

My upbringing had not been fire and brimstone but my parents had instilled a strong sense of right and wrong and I could almost hear them as I stretched out my tongue once more. In their eyes same sexual relationships were for those very few whose genetic make-up had trapped them in a body that nature had not intended, not for the many who simply sought out a vicarious sexual excitement and there was no doubt, at that moment, into which category I fell.

Without the use of my hands it was difficult to penetrate the dark tuft that was presented to my mouth and Kyla seemed to enjoy my struggle as I tried to lick my way through. She moved back and forth over me directing my tongue but at the same time hazing me with her rich scent as though from a sensor.

Finally, I managed to part her labia but, as I licked along the length of her tight slit I was still aware of the silky hairs that fringed them. As my tongue moved so did the fingers that continued to tease my thighs. They moved higher until they reached the lowlands of my pudenda but they refused to climb.

I knew that I had to make Kyla give some sign of satisfaction and so I pushed my tongue deeper but she was showing remarkable self control. For my part I could feel beads of perspiration standing out on my forehead and the tension in my bound body was painful as I hovered at a point just short of orgasm.

Almost in desperation I moved my tongue to her clitoris and found that it was no less prominent than her cousins. As soon as I began to lick she arched her back and bore down on me more heavily and I felt a fingertip pushing its way slowly through my pubic hair.

We must have formed an odd tableau, my body held in tension by a single finger while, in turn, Kyla held herself fixed in place as my tongue brought her the pleasure she sought.

I flicked my tongue rapidly trying to force an orgasm from her but she was not going to be hurried. She allowed it to build and just when it seemed imminent she changed her position leaving me licking at her labia which were slick with her juices. Over the next few minutes the process was repeated. She would allow me to lick her clitoris, bringing her ever closer to the boil, and then she would focus my attention on the rest of her pussy the taste of which was growing stronger as she became more heated.

To be continued
By nutbuster
Written by nutbuster (D C)
Published
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