BC Ch. 12: Sara's Bachelorette

"So I can't make you come?"

She nodded excitedly, then stepped onto the armchair's over-scaled seat to stand astride my lap. "As long as Madame can see, I can come as much as I like..."

The Giver offered her hips to me, spreading her labia with black silk fingers and pushing her neck out to watch--and to let Beatrice see too I guess. With a dizzy sensation of licking two women at once, I pressed my lips to her clit. She cupped the back of my head, stroked me, drew me deeper.

I licked into her wet hole and relished her salty taste again, then put the slipperiness to good use over her hard clit.

The woman seemed to edge herself on my tongue, letting me flicker at her clit until she tensed, then jerking away and puffing until her climax subsided. Her thighs and my chin grew insanely slimy and her pussy clenched almost continuously the second my tongue returned to her.

Then to some hidden signal, she lifted a foot onto the back of the chair, and wound at my face, craning her neck to view us, and film us in the mirror. She blurted, "Merde" and shuddered to a halt. Her breath caught.

She gasped and squirmed on my mouth, clawing my head, her orgasm a series of wrenched, whispered yelps, so quiet I fancied I could hear Beatrice moan through her headphones.

Even as she writhed her climax out on my tongue I yanked off my underwear, then got a grip on her hips ready to impale her on me.

She blew a settling breath, then climbed off my face, stroking my cheek. "Madame is very happy--Oh!"

I pulled her down onto my lap, and shoved upward to meet her liquid folds. She sniggered, spread herself and dropped on me.

I fucked my frustrations. A day spent hard, pleasuring women and having them treat me like a joke, a day of wanting Tess and not knowing how I'd fucked it up, taken out on this girl's eager, sucking pussy. Crouched on my lap, she bounced on me, her juices rolling down my balls. "Madame says... don't come-- AH! OUI! OUI!" She struggled, trying not to lose the view of us in the mirror even as another climax seemed to overpower her.

Then she tutted, pressed her finger to her ear. "Oh Madame! Please! I am so-- non. D'accord. Oui." She hopped off my lap and I wanted to scream. But she quickly spun to face the mirror, and swung her leg back over me. She opened up, I pushed up, and we both groaned as I sank into her once more.

If anything, the break brought us closer to release. She leant back, legs spread to the mirror, and sinuously bucked her hips. We--the three of us--watched my glistening cock stretch her hole as I pistoned for our release. I reached around, slooped juices from my bouncing balls and rubbed her clit. She sagged, as if giving over to me. Her mouth gaped. I wrapped an arm around her waist to move her against my thrusts, her buttocks slapping my hips. "Oh... Oui..." she panted, crimson all the way down to her chest now, the corners of her lips curled in a dreamy smile. "Oui..."

She arched. I pumped. She clasped my fingers to her clit, grunted and froze. From her headphones, close to my ear, Beatrice blustered. "Oui! OUI!"

The Giver burst on my thrusts, eyes screwed shut behind her mask, profoundly floppy in my arms, gasping.

Power returned to her limbs, and she snaked on my cock, bit her gloved knuckle, huffed a croaky laugh. I drove on, my orgasm like a loaded cannonball in my hips. Fuse lit. I stiffened, arched.

The Giver squeaked, slipped off me and spun around.

She dropped to her knees between mine, ran her tongue around my slippery cock, and took me into her wet mouth, flipping every lock inside me.

But she cursed and stopped again. Sat back. Scowled. I grit my teeth, gripped my cock, squeezed at the cum throbbing inside.

"Oui, Madame. Oui."

She growled, rolled her eyes and took me in her hand instead. Her silk glove tossed me. It wasn't a tongue but it felt delicious anyway, and she slid her other silky hand underneath my balls while rubbing furiously until her breasts jiggled in her basque. Until she'd worked me out of the seat. I could control myself no longer and burst white all over the black silk, jetting furiously as she wanked me, murmuring French under her breath, the tip of her tongue curled out in concentration.

She eased her pace, reading me perfectly, slowing right down and drawing out the last lazy drops, watching intently as my orgasm faded.

"Madame wants you to have this..." the Giver moved to one side, and curled over my lap, watching her reflection. She planted a tender, firm kiss to my slicked head and kept it pressed for a long breath, sliding her lips sensuously as I pulsed against them. Then she pulled away. She presented her white-glossed red lips to the mirror, waiting for Beatrice's remote approval. "Tres bien!" She said finally, sucking her lips and turning to me breezily while she unpeeled her messy gloves.

"Monsieur, I am now free. Madame has gone. She is... satisfied now, I think. Is there anything else you would like?"

I could hardly even speak. I raised surrendering hands. "I'm done."

She looked down at my dripping cock and dipped to it again. "But I am in your debt, I came twice." She swirled her fat tongue around my shaft, gathering cum, swallowing discretely, returning for more. "Perhaps you can too, non?" She settled between my knees, her bare-bottomed reflection captivating at my feet. She tickled a beckoning finger under my rousing head. "Is Monsieur absolutely sure?"