About Us

"Are you really sure about this," you say, as we are about to enter our bedroom, "because this might be the last moment you can stop it."

"I'm positive," I say to you, "I love you and I want this to happen." I kiss the back of your neck and gently nudge you onwards, inwards towards him.

He is sprawled on the bed already, awaiting the drink you have for him, with a smile which manages to be both smug and nervous spread over his boyish face. He's a handsome fucker, the guy we found on the website we found, the kind of pretty boy you used to go for, in the days before you found me. He's a bit too ripped for your tastes though, or so you said, back when we were looking at the pictures he emailed. But don't think I didn't notice the slight gasp, though you quickly turned it into a giggle, when you saw the picture of his cock.

I dare say he does well for himself this guy. But I could see he was taken aback when you opened the door to him tonight. And he should be, you are gorgeous, my darling: eyes as blue as a husky dog's and big in your face like a baby's; succulent lips that look like they long to be kissed, even when they don't; you're still as slim as most girls wished they were at sixteen; your little tits are hard and high, pink nipples like strawberries on vanilla cones; your tight little ass is the most beautifully curved thing on the planet, makes a Porsche look like a Volvo. I wish he could see your bum properly, you're wearing a skirt, it looks better in tight jeans. But I guess he'll see it soon enough.

You hand him the glass of wine and sit down beside him on the bed, shuffle yourself upwards towards him. You watch while he has a sip, then you take the glass from him and have a sip yourself. It is one of our big goblets, can take half a bottle, we have all shared two bottles already and you and I had a couple of gin and tonics before he arrived.

I take my place, in the corner, where we put one of the dining room chairs earlier.

You two continue to share wine, but he starts to stroke your bare thigh now, whenever it is not his turn to hold the glass. You let out a slight sigh when he does so, at each first touch. I am not sure if this is from genuine pleasure, or from anticipation, or to encourage him; but I am hard as fuck already. I stroke my arm against myself through my trousers, subtly, though neither of you are looking at me anyway.

When the wine is finished, you turn to place it on the floor and you look into my eyes as you do so and I just nod and mouth 'I love you', my lips barely moving, but certain they convey what I say.

And as you turn back to him again, as if by unspoken agreement, you both move your faces together and kiss. Softly at first, gently, then you move slightly on top of him and then the kissing becomes more constant, you are more or less sealed at the face.

I feel the first knots of jealousy then, but quickly his hand, which was stroking your leg moves up to your ass, which lifts your skirt; and the sight of your beautiful peachy bum being groped by this near-stranger's fingers makes me want to come in my pants there and then.

You straddle him, and grab at his T-shirt from the bottom, make him lift his arms so that you can pull it off. And you pull off your own top as well, press against him, so that he can feel your stiff little nipples rubbing into his chest. You kiss like this for a while, rubbing your hands over each other. Him quickly gathering the confidence to squeeze and hold your delicious tits.

While he sucks on them, one after the other, you look into my eyes. Is this what you wanted? You seem to be asking me, but I just stare at you loving you, more aroused perhaps even than you.

You look away first, and as if that look was the final permission you have sought, you move your straddle lower, onto his thighs, and you start to rub his cock through his jeans. If it weren't poking sideways it would doubtless be above his beltline anyway, but you generously unbutton his flies to free it. You have to reach right into his pants to pull it out. But you spend some time in there stroking it, probably rubbing the underside of his helmet in that special way you do. When you eventually manoeuvre it out, pulling down his pants and jeans a little with your other hand, I see the size of it. It looks huge wrapped in your little fingers.

You edge further down the bed, ass in the air, as if you were going to suck on it, but you don't, you pull his trousers and underwear right off and return to wanking him. Wanking is too crude a word for what you do though, for what you are capable of. You encase and wrap him. You twist as you pull up on his thick shaft and work his own precum round his glans. Your other hand alternates between cupping and stroking his balls and working in unison on his cock. You elicit the same moans and gasps and pants from him as you do from me. You are an artist. And you are relishing every second of this. You can do things with two hands on this monster cock that you could never do on mine.

Soon you discover that even pumping and kneading him with two hands, there is still space for your mouth at the top, and you suck at it eagerly, gleefully, moaning yourself now, though you are untouched except where his fingers occasionally grasp through your hair, or hold you head steady for a moment, perhaps in efforts not too cum.

When you move your legs off the bed, in order to get at him better - so that your too skilled fingers and hungry mouth can appreciate this new cock the more – your knees are on the floor and your ass is right in front of me. It is more than I can resist. I come over to you, behind you and you obliging lift your knees up one at a time while I take your skirt of you.

I kneel behind you, my single middle finger rubbing along your pussy through the fabric of your best black g-string. It is so wet it feels like leather somehow. You hunch back into my hand, wanting more than that, but unwilling to remove your lips from the fat dick you are sucking like you're afraid it will be taken away at any moment.

I rub my own dick with the hand that is not still stroking along your swollen lips. Then I undo my belt and pull my trousers and shorts down, to get at myself better, unembarrassed with how badly I measure up, now that he is flat on his back struggling with, what I can only imagine from my not inconsiderable personal experience, is the most exquisite, unfuckingbelievable, cock-seeing-to of his life.

I edge aside your g-string with my finger, which is almost sucked inside you. Disappears with contemptuous ease. I add another and start to work the two of them, but still you feel wide. I have never felt you this turned before I've even touched you. I add another finger and jerk them all into you. You're really moaning now, muffled through your mouthful of cock. I'm still amazed you could fit him in your mouth at all, but in spite of his girth, or maybe because of it, you seem to be trying your hardest to get him further and further into your throat.

I decide that your efforts need rewarding, it's a tricky, uncomfortable position, but by relinquishing my own dick, I shift myself round onto my back, with my fingers still in you. My head now pressed against the bed, from here I can access your sweet sweet pussy. You are bare not just of pants but of hair. I love the feeling of your bald lips spreading over my mouth, they welcome me like a friend but feel new every time. But this is the newest time of all: the knowledge that as I suck and lick you, you are sucking and licking him makes this newer than even the first time we fucked, than even when we knew it was love. This is something that neither of us have ever done before and we get to do it together.

I keep thrusting my three fingers into you while my other hand spreads you open and makes your clit easier for my tongue to work. I could make you come like this easily, more easily even than normal, no doubt. But I'm not going to. I want to watch you come.

When I feel that you are almost there, and I know your beautiful body more than well enough to know that, I come up from under you. And I wipe my face clean of your slick, salty juices on my shirt and then pull it off.

For the first time in twenty minutes you turn your head away from the massive Christmas present cock and speak the first words since we came into the room: "Don't stop."

It's like a plea and a command, but I ignore them both. I pass you a condom from on top of the drawers and move back to my chair.

You don't need more inspiration than this; you tear at the wrapper, hands trembling with urgency. And smooth the straining latex down over a girth it wasn't designed to contain.

You clamber back onto the bed and position yourself above him. His hands reach immediately for your thighs, but he might as well have been a fuck toy for all the participation he has had so far. He is a fuck toy. Your fuck toy. Our fuck toy. And you could never have sucked at anything but a real cock - a really fat, thick, eight inch cock – with the zeal that I've just witnessed.

You position your needful cunt above him. Holding him at the angle you want him. Your fingers don't begin to meet around him from above like that. You let out a low mournful moan as you start to slip down him. Slip is the wrong word. As you start to force yourself open around him. You moan louder with every downwards assault. He keeps himself motionless on the bed, his hands only moving, rubbing your thighs and bubble of a butt and firm little tits. No doubt he is long schooled in letting women judge how much of him they can take.

Even turned on as you are, it is a couple of minutes before he is fully submerged in you. Each time you raise from him, I see a lag of your pussy lips dragging up behind. I can only imagine what that must feel like on your clit. Can have no comprehension what it must be like for you to be so filled with cock as that, to be as stuffed as I have always wanted to see you.

Maybe you sense this, that I want to see you, or maybe you just want to come in another new way – I am amazed that you haven't come already – but you pull yourself off him, quite a large movement to get that thing out of you. And you turn around, your back facing him now, your beautiful face looking at me.

Your hair is wet with sweat. Your eyes are almost glazed with closeness to orgasm, they watch me working my dick. Your lips are barely parted, they let out a shriek like I have never heard before as you lunge down on him in one hard move.

"Is this what you wanted?" you almost gurgle at me, rocking yourself on him, fingers rubbing at his balls and your own clit. "You wanted to see me fucked by a big fucking cock, well you got it, is it what you wanted?"

I have been too engrossed to even consider whether this has met expectation, but you are hardly asking anyway, you are just throwing another level of filth into all this newness for the thrill of it. You are in anticipation of the biggest climax of your sexy young life. I stand up and I move to you and I hold your head in my hands as I kiss you. Your tongue works around my mouth with a questing desperation I have never before encountered. And we continue to kiss like that - me tasting his cock in your mouth, you tasting your pussy in mine – while you fuck yourself back on his cunt-stretching girth. While you play with your clit, which is already rubbing on cock. While I wank myself and you claw at my back. And I realise that this is what I wanted, this is just what I wanted. And while you scream I pump my spunk onto you and groan with you and we kiss while we come and keep kissing softer, even as we slow. And for all we know he came too. But we don't know that yet, and we don't much care for the moment; because this was about us.