Videos And Sex, Sex, Sex Ch. 02

I walked beside my lovely slavegirl and ran the mitt across her stunningly full and firm breasts. "Oooh, that feels so fuckin' good," she told me, then I traced it across her buttock cheeks.

"What do you say, Stella, you superslut, you?" I asked.

"Please spank me, darling," she said, in another of those low husky requests of hers. How could a girl refuse?

The rubber spanking mitt cracked across her beautiful butt, making it tremble. As I spanked, I placed my moist minge against her strong, toned upper thigh, rubbing myself against her bronzed flesh. At the same time, my middle finger was deftly working on her erect clitoris.

The triple movements – spanking mitt on buttocks, pussy on strong thigh and finger on clit – soon began to have their effect. I started to gasp as I felt my orgasm drawing near, and then, as I got more and more excited, the pace of my spanking increased, and the pace of my finger fucking.

Soon Stella was moaning "Mercy, mercy, no more Sharon, I can take no more, you bitch, you slut", which merely served to make me intensify my spanking, my fingering and my rubbing up and down on her thigh, now slippery and slick from my sex juice.

Then I felt my climax reaching me, roaring its wonderful path to my pussy. And Stella could feel it too. With a little shriek she cried: "Don't come before me, make me come, make me fuckin' come!"

It wasn't a demand, though, it was a pleading, sobbing call for me to flick her clit faster and faster and then, as the rubber spanking mitt went up and down against her trembling cheeks we both stormed and shouted our way to simultaneous climaxes.

Pulling the mitt from my hand, I pushed her onto the bed and we collapsed together, laughing, giggling like a couple of schoolgirls, kissing and fondling each other.

"Shit," I panted, "that's the first time I've managed a dual orgasm in ages. It's like something you read about."

Then I pulled away from her embrace, asked "Margaritas, OK?" to which she nodded and I dashed downstairs and soon returned with two large glasses with lashings of salt around their rims, to help cool us down.

Seated up against piled pillows at the head of the bed, Stella sipped on her drink, then eyed me seriously. "Can I tell you something, darling?"

"Sure," I nodded, and waited, hoping it would be something juicy for the recording.

"My stepdaughter – you've met Stazee, haven't you?"

I nodded. "She's a little stunner," I said, urging her on.

"Well," said Stella, taking another sip of her margarita. I wanted to scream at her "Get the fuck on with it!" but bit my tongue.

"Well," she repeated, "I don't know if I'm dreaming things, but I think she fancies me."

I had to take a deep draught of my margarita to wait for myself to calm down. "What makes you say that?" I asked.

Stella ploughed on, moving quickly now. "It's just that every now and then I catch her looking at me and I don't know if I'm just fantasizing, but it's a sort of 'I'd love you to sit on my face' look.

"And whenever we're alone in the kitchen, which is big enough to play the final of the US Open tennis in, I swear she rubs up against me with her boobs accidentally on purpose.

"And the other day she told me she was getting bored with her teenage girl friends – they're all her age, 18, some are 19. She says they're 'airheads' and she far prefers the company of more mature women."

I chimed in. "Of course she fancies you, what's wrong with that? You're fuckin' gorgeous."

"Thank-you, dear," she smiled, "but I'm her stepmother, for fuck's sake."

"Oh for crying out loud," I said, louder than I meant to. "If you hadn't married her father and she met you in the mall and said 'I like older women, I fancy you, let's find a motel and sit on each others faces', you'd have rushed her off like a shot. After all, she's got a great body."

"You're telling me," said Stella, draining her drink. "The other week, we were doing this girls thing, looking at some dresses in a fashion mag and I saw something I said would suit her. She said she wouldn't be able to fit into it, so as a joke I said I'd take her measurements. Know what they are?"

I shook my head. "Tell me," I said, eagerly.

Stella grinned. "She's 36-23-35 and it's such a mouth-watering figure," she said.

"You're telling me," I said.

"And I know she fancies you," said Stella, quietly.

"Shewhat?" I cried. "How on earth do you know that?"

"Well, the other day she was doing some studying in her bedroom and she called out to me 'Stella, come and have a look at this'. And I did, and we saw you in one of those outrageous little bikinis you wear, lying by the pool.

"Stazee said 'Doesn't she look great?' And I said, "She looks great for a 40-year-old' and the little tart said 'Yum, yum, I could go a bit of that' and then she looked me in the eye and said 'You're 40, aren't you, Stella?'

"And I got all flustered and walked out."

I kissed her on the mouth, warmly, then had an idea. "You know what?" I said.

"What?" said Stella.

"You've just told me that today wasn't the first day you've perved on me. I think that calls for a taste of the lash."

Stella put on a mock pout, but I could see her nipples standing up in erect anticipation. "About fuckin' time," she grinned.

I went to the massive walk-in wardrobe, removed four black silk stockings from a drawer, and the lash, and walked back into the bedroom. Stella saw what I was carrying and rolled over on her tummy in a flash, her hands and feet extended to the four corners of the bed.

After tying her down with the stockings, so she was spreadeagled in a sort of "X" shape, I placed the little leather lash – no more than three feet long, but capable of a cruel caress – and made her kiss it.

Slipping my Manolo Blahniks back on – just to give myself a feeling of added hauteur, I guess – I flashed the weapon down across her lovely tush. The leather of the lash meeting the lovely lushness of her firm flesh made a delicious "Tissssh" sound as it met the mark.

Two more strokes and Stella was writhing her pretty ass provocatively, making it look even more mouth-wateringly tasty. "Mercy, mistress, mercy," came her cry. "Tisssh" went the lash. More writhing, more begging. "Tisssh" went the lash.

Finally, after I had laid a good 20 strokes on her tush, which was now delightfully criss-crossed with the red-streaked evidence of my work, Stella called out in a hot, rasping voice: "Voyeur."

Dropping the lash on the floor, I kicked off my high heels and got up on the bed, lying back on the clustered pillows. My feet pushed beneath her arms on the mattress, then I slid my hips down until my pussy was inches from my mature slavegirl's mouth.

I felt her hot tongue slithering along my labia, diving into my cunt, teasing at my musky anus, then sliding back up to my clitoris. Soon she had me writhing and graunching on her face.

I looked down at her lovely ass, the red marks already beginning to fade, making the twin globes look so utterly sensual. I felt a tremor run through my body and then my orgasm started its inexorable flood to my sex.

As I lay back and enjoyed the fruits of Stella's oral attentions, I looked up at the hat box, where the camera was recording my lovely neighbour's cunnilingual exercises.

Then I did something naughty. I winked at the hat box and silently whispered to the camera : two down, one to go!

To be continued...