All Talk

"You don't really want me to stop, do you?"

"I do." He said firmly.

"Mmmmm...then why do you keep responding to my questions? A man who really didn't want company would simply not respond. Then I'd get bored and move on. But every time I say something, you look at me with those fabulously, hollowly, soulful eyes, and you say, 'No, I'm not interested.' Or, 'Look, I'm married.'"

He stared intently out the bus window, ignoring her.

So she kept speaking.

"Perhaps it's that my questions to this point haven't intrigued you. Perhaps my expressed interest isn't specific enough."

He turned his head to respond and was startled by her proximity, though her voice had remained soft and steady, she'd leaned in from her place in the seat next to him so that her face was less than a foot away from his. His nostrils flared as he caught her subtle perfume, and he willed himself not to examine her face, her long bare neck, the thin material of her t-shirt, and the obvious lack of a bra.

"I've tried to be specific as well. You're a very attractive woman, but I'm married to a woman that I love very much, and I don't think she'd appreciate my attention to your...specifics."

"Is she beautiful?" She remained close, not so much leaning now as settled in, still and observant, still less than twelve inches from his face. Her breasts were not quite touching his shoulder, though he thought he could feel the slight contact between his shirt and hers. He stayed rigid, facing forward, and did not draw away. He would not to let her intimidate him.

"I'm sorry? Oh, my wife...yes, yes she is—very beautiful!" He rushed to elaborate on what seemed a safe topic. "One of the most beautiful women I've ever seen." He adopted an adoring puppy look that made her think of soap operas, so she interrupted his melodrama.

"Describe her."

"My wife? Well, she's five foot four or so, in decent shape—fit, but not wafer thin. She has brown hair, though sometimes she dyes it a dark red. Her eyes are a soft brown and very large—I always said she had a deer's eyes."

"That's very sweet. Is she sexy?"

"Of course."

"In what way?"

He seemed at a loss for words, so she helped him.

"Is she soft and pliable? When she walks, does she sashay, does she strut? Is she a woman who likes for people to look at her ass as she walks away from them? Does she look back to make sure that they're looking, or does she not have to? Do her nipples get hard at unexpected times, and does she enjoy the looks that she gets as a result?" She smiled as he glanced down at her shirt, quickly taking in her very hard and protruding nipples, then looked back up at her face chagrined. She continued, "Yes, like these." He refused to take another look, but he didn't look away from her face. "Does she tell you what she likes?"

"I'm not sure what you..."

"Is she specific about what she likes you to do with her? Has she shown you how she likes to kiss? Does she like her bottom lip nibbled? Does it melt her when you dwell lovingly on the corners of her mouth? Does she let you know that she likes it when you stand behind her and pull her against your covered erection, so that she can feel its firmness, feel your excitement, and think about what's to come? Does she tell you that she likes it when you pretend that her mouth is her cunt and that you're eating it, so that if she pushes you on your back and leans over you and holds her lips slightly ajar, then moves her head back and forth slowly, you can close your eyes and lick up with your tongue and it's as if you were licking her pussy with long, languorous strokes of your tongue, drinking in her dripping saliva as if it were the cream of her very wet cunt?"

She almost laughed then, at the look in his eyes, which went from lustful to startled and back again in a heartbeat. "Does she tell you things like that?" She leaned in even closer, and he could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips. "Does she then tell you that she wants you to do the very same thing to her pussy, lying on your back, reaching up with your tongue to catch her juicy cunt as it sways slowly over your face and she rocks her pelvis back and forth, sometimes just out of reach, driving you mad with the smell of her aroused sex, then lower, grinding the wet folds of her pussylips down onto your face, not just taking your tongue inside her, but burying your face in her sopping cunt, soaking your whole face in her juices as she rubs herself hard on your face until she cums, flooding your mouth with her creamy flow...does she tell you that?" Her lips were very close to him now, and it was all he could do to keep himself still. He was paralyzed, his honor warring with his lust. And losing.

"Does she like girls?"

"I...don't know," he responded in a low, quiet voice, "I don't think so."

"You've never talked about it? You've never asked her if she'd like being with another woman...if she'd like the feel of a woman's soft lips kissing her vulva, her smooth cheeks rubbing the inside of her thighs, without the razor-burn that comes with a man's attentions?"

"We don't...I mean, we never..."

She wet her lips with the tip of her pink tongue ever-so-provocatively, "Mmmm...I'll bet she'd like the feel of another woman's long hair trailing her lips down your wife's stomach. Or the feel of a woman's thin fingers pushed into her wetness, tracing the inner contours of her cunt, finding her cervical opening, finding the little ridges of her g-spot, lightly massaging, in no hurry at all.

"She might get so wet at the thought that she's at home right now thinking about it. She might be sitting in front of her computer, panties pulled down to her ankles, skirt hiked up to her waist, fingers rhythmically making circles about her clit, dipping down into her dirty little cunt every so often for some lubrication. She's probably surfing girl-porn right now, watching some girls named "Lexy" and "Amber" sixty-nine and wishing that it were her.

"Or maybe that's what she IS doing right now. Maybe she's on her back in your bedroom right now, tonguing the pussy of your neighbor's beautiful wife, staring at the woman's asshole and wondering if it would be okay to touch it lightly with her tongue—wondering if it would taste as good as its musky smell.

"Maybe she's performing for your neighbor as well. And he's on the bed with them, leaning over to get a clear, close view of your wife's tongue as it slides enthusiastically in and out of his wife's ass as they both moan into each other's crotch. Perhaps when both women have orgasmed wetly, your wife lies back, her face glistening with cunt-juice, and tells your neighbor that she wants to watch him fuck his wife. And when he's thrusting into his wife's cunt, your wife teabags him, taking his swinging balls into her mouth, first one, then the other, running her tongue over the sweaty wrinkles and trying to suck both balls into her too-small mouth. And his wife is so wet, her juices stream down his shaft, over his balls and into your wife's slutty mouth, and your wife, she loves being able to taste them both at once. And your neighbor pulls out of his wife's pussy now and again to thrust his cock into your wife's mouth. She of course gobbles at it greedily and he praises her for being such a nasty little whore. And he when he feels himself getting close to cumming, he asks your wife where she wants it. She says, "Cum in your wife's dirty cunt—fill her with a nice creamy filling that I can suck right out of her." So he does. And she does."

"Think that's what she's doing? Hmmm?"

(to be continued?)