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Image for the poem HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX Chapter 5

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX Chapter 5

HER STORY OF LUST AND SEX  
Chapter 5  to be continued

I was awakened by the sun blazing into the room and was surprised to find that it was almost midday.  
 
I dressed and made my way downstairs, filled with trepidation, but the girls were gone; the only remaining signs were a few breakfast dishes on the drainer and a box full of empty wine bottles set neatly by the door.  
 
I was still trying to get my thoughts straight when the phone rang. It was Mathew, back from Stuttgart, checking to see if I was okay and confirming that he would be arriving later that evening.  
 
It was comforting to hear his voice and I was touched by his concern. For a short while I almost lulled myself into believing that everything would be alright but the reality of my tender tongue was a reminder of just how low I had fallen. I determined that I would go back to the house and then to gallery if need be to have it out with Mathew immediately.  
 
With this new determination I packed the car and set off. I found myself driving aggressively and had to make a conscious effort to calm myself down. Once back at the manor I strode into the vestibule and shouted for Katrina but there was no answer. I found this oddly frustrating and I guess this was because I wanted an outlet for my simmering rage.  
 
As Mathew had not answered either I assumed he was at the gallery and so I went up to the bedroom to collect my passport before setting off to confront him.  
In the event I confronted him a lot sooner than I anticipated and, in so doing, I came close to fainting. I found him naked on the bed his limbs bound to the corner posts with white ribbons.  
 
I wanted to flee the room but I remained rooted to the spot, partly out of shock but also because he could not see me; his eyes were blindfolded with a white silk scarf.  
 
I did not know what to think. It seemed fair to assume that Isabel was somehow involved in this depravity, as evidenced by the ribbons themselves, but if Mathew was an unwilling participant his raging erection suggested otherwise.  
 
I concluded that he was in some way enjoying his predicament and I wanted to curse him. His past behavior had never hinted at any such predilection and I felt that I had been duped but, worse still, I had been sucked in.  
 
Gaining control of myself I decided to take the dignified route and leave without saying another word. The sooner he was out of my life the better. I turned to leave but, as I did so, he moved his head. I saw, then, that the scarf covered his ears as well and so,  
while he knew that there was someone in the room, he had no idea who.  
 
It took me just seconds to make my decision. As he continued to cast his head around searching for a clue I quietly undressed myself once naked, I eased up on to the bed and straddled his head and, as I suspected, his docile manner told me that this was not unexpected.  
 
Isabel?  
 
Hearing him confirm my worst fears fired my anger but if he thought I was his step daughter what did I care?  
 
I lowered myself, bringing my sex to his mouth, and, almost immediately, he began to lick like a cat lapping milk.  
 
On the one hand I felt completely gutted, he had never shown this sort of enthusiasm when he had gone down on me in the past, but, on the other, I was quickly becoming aroused.  
 
It had not been my intention. I had simply wanted to remove his blindfold at some stage and witness his humiliation when he found it was me and not Isabel but how much the sweeter if he brought me to a climax first.  
 
I reached down and parted my labia and, like a well conditioned animal, he switched his attention to my clitoris, licking in a tight circular motion. It was incredibly arousing but I assumed that he would tire quickly. I was wrong. He had obviously had a lot of practice and this realization brought with it a dichotomy of emotions.  
 
In a moment of uncertainty I lifted myself off of his face, leaving his tongue darting at the empty air, but I could feel my juices welling up inside of me.  
 
As I continued to hesitate a single droplet teased its way down my labia, growing ever more pendulous, until it succumbed to gravity and plopped between his lips.  
 
For a second he appeared startled but then, when he realized what had happened, he tried to turn his head away in disgust. Given his circumstances, and all that was suggested by them, I was surprised by this sudden display of fastidiousness but he was about to be taught a lesson.  
 
I brought my legs together and pinned his head tightly with my knees. Now that he was fixed firmly in place I pushed two fingers deep inside myself and smiled as I heard a squelching rasp.  
 
I worked my fingers in and out and it did not take much to set up a flow. In a matter of seconds I was gently moving my hips and dripping all over his face. It was a delicious case of cause and effect; he clamped his mouth closed and tried to shake his head free but his struggles only served to increase my arousal and make me wetter.  
 
Over the next couple of minutes I got an inkling of just what motivated Isabel but, even though my conscience was telling me it was wrong, I did not stop. I needed to come and I knew exactly how it was going to happen. I lowered myself again and shifted forward smearing his face in the process.  
 
He did not have to be told, he had been here before. I felt my heart trip as his tongue sought out my tight opening and then, with a strength born of experience, he pushed his way through the dark portal.  
 
I hardly dare breath as his tongue seemed to work its way impossibly deep but my fingers found their way unthinkingly back to my clitoris where the lightest touch was enough to break the dam.  
 
I was brought back to reality by jerking of his body and found that, at the height of ecstasy I had relaxed heavily onto his face trapping his tongue and restricting his breathing.  
 
I got up from him with a tinge of guilt but his breathing quickly returned to normal and he did not say a word.  
 
The time had come to disabuse him but, even as I prepared to reach for the blindfold, I noticed that his erection was still standing proud. It was an easy decision to make I would make use of him one last time.  
 
I moved down his body and he gasped as I took hold of his manhood and guided it into me. I had never felt him harder and I found myself feeling slighted but I was still flying from my first orgasm and, as I closed my eyes and began a slow rise and fall, I lost myself in the pursuit of a second.  
 
I kept up an easy rhythm but was disturbed as he jerked violently. My eyes flew open and there, right in front of me, was Isabel. She was gloriously naked as she sat imperiously on his face and I could only try to imagine his shock.  
 
I opened my mouth to speak but she put a finger to her lips and cautioned me to silence. Beneath me he settled once more, no doubt caught up in the throes of a new, enhanced, fantasy, and, as I watched I saw his tongue disappear into the dark thicket covering Isabel's pussy.  
 
I should have shouted, questioned, raged, instead I began to move once more now driven by the image of Isabel as she teased her nipples to erection whilst she enjoyed his oral ministrations.  
 
Our bodies quickly became sheered in perspiration and I knew that I could not hold out for much longer but, as though sensing that the moment was upon me, Isabel reached up and, putting her hand behind her head, she gently drew my mouth down onto her breast. I sucked ravenously even as I started to come aware that inside me Mathew was ejaculating with an unaccustomed violence.  
 
It took me a long while to recover and, whilst I tried to regain my breath, Isabel slipped away from me.  
 
Mathew gasped as she got up from his face but his reprieve was short lived. Isabel took my hand and encouraged me to move. I felt his limp manhood fall away as she eased me forward and then I understood.  
 
I positioned myself over his face once more.  
 
No  
 
He only managed the single word of protest. Isabel reached under me and pinched his nostrils closed while at the same time pushing her fingers painfully into his cheeks so that he could not close his jaw.  
 
I do not know which cruel demon was driving me as I opened myself but it felt so, good as I allowed the commingled fluids to ooze out of me to fall into his open mouth in a viscous trickle. Isabel continued to hold him tightly so that nothing was spared and I fleetingly thought of bringing myself off for a third time but he finally managed to close his mouth and this signaled the end.  
 
He began to rant in Portuguese. It was the angriest, I had ever seen him, but Isabel silently handed me back my clothes and ushered me from the room. As we stood together, conspiratorially, in the hall it seemed a fitting end. He would forever agonize over the identity of the second woman in the room.  
 
Isabel went to her own room without another word and afterwards I was left to wonder if she knew I was leaving or if, perhaps, it had always been her plan to drive me to it. I could not even be sure whether or not she had intended me to find Mathew revealed in his true light.  
 
Later that same night I was back in London removing the dust sheets from the furniture in my flat. It was hard to believe that so much had happened in so short a time. It felt as if I had been away for weeks.  
 
The next morning I set about putting my life back on track. I got back into the studio and made a start on the most urgent of my recent commissions and, within a few weeks, things seemed back to normal.  
 
Mathew tried to contact me but I refused his calls and, after a while, the frequency dwindled. Perhaps, after all, he guessed that I had been the second woman with all that that portended. I returned from the studio one evening to find a letter telling me that there was a packing case awaiting my disposal instructions and I guessed that he had shipped back the remainder of my belongings.  
 
My New York exhibition was a success but I found that my paintings were taking on darker tones and themes which were a reflection of my continuingly disturbed state of mind. Not a day went by without me thinking of the Mathew of old but, more hauntingly, I could not rid myself of thoughts of Isabel.  
 
Perversely, the new, more sinister, paintings sold well and I found myself in even greater demand which gave me an excuse for avoiding old friends. I was acutely aware that I had been re-examining past relationships for clues to my recent aberrant behavior.  
 
One morning I received an invitation that I could not refuse. Claire was back in London and had been nominated for a literary prize. The ceremony was at the Savoy hotel and her publisher had taken a table at the white tie event. Clair invited me to be one of her supporters and I could not let her down.  
 
In the event Claire lost out to a young poet who was awarded the prize posthumously. She understood the reasoning for the sympathy vote but she did not take it well. She quickly got fed up with people offering their commiserations and when we went to the bar together she asked me if I would like to help her drown her sorrows up in her room away from the crowds.  
 
Her publisher had put her up in a suite overlooking the Thames and we sat together in front of the picture windows and opened a bottle of wine. We were well into it when she delicately broached the subject of my own misfortunes.  
 
I was sorry to hear about you and Mathew. You seemed so sure when we met up in Seville."  
 
Things just didn't work out.  
I didn't like to say anything but I had a feeling you couldn't settle down. You're too much a woman of the world.  
 
No. It wasn't like that. I think I really loved him.  
 
Then what's the problem?  
 
A jealous step-daughter.  
 
I thought you got on okay with her.  
 
It turns out she's a lesbian.  
 
I do not know why I said it. To all intents and purposes Isabel was a heterosexual who used lesbianism simply as a means of humiliation. I suppose the truth was that I wanted to talk about it, albeit in a peripheral way, to exorcise my demons.  
 
You don't have a problem with that surely?  
 
No, of course not, live and let live.  
 
Did Mathew not approve?  
 
 
By nutbuster
Written by nutbuster (D C)
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