Booty Call Ch. 02 - Rimming

Tristan texts her at lunch the next day, and Myra is so, so glad he didn't try the 'you gotta wait three days before you call a girl' bullshit thing. She plans on texting first even, but her morning at the office gets busy. Frankly, she is happy it's busy and she's running around, because her ass still aches from the spanking.

They make plans to meet again. Tristan has 'a new door he'd like to open for her.' Myra shivers involuntarily when she reads that text. If it's anything like spanking, she's ready for it. She didn't even cum, didn't have her pussy touched once, the whole time. A few sensual kisses and a hard spanking was the extent of it. Tristan hadn't even taken off his clothes. But wow, is she ready for more.

"Hello, my wispy one," he says the next night when he opens his door. He looks perfect in a grey henley shirt with his sleeves rolled up to show off tattooed forearms. Myra has to turn sideways to get past him into the house and when she does, he scoops up her hand and kisses her wrist sweetly.

She could melt, seriously.

"Hi," she says. "It's good to see you again."

Tristan smiles, still holding her wrist in his wide hand. "You're blushing, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says, the honest truth. Nothing is wrong. She's excited.

"You mentioned something you'd like to try, something new?"

"I think it'll be new for you, anyways," he confirms. "So, would you like a drink? Watch a movie? Or is tonight all business?" Tristan gives no indication which option he'd prefer, so it really must be up to her.

"Or get right to it?" she suggests, and immediately feels her face going red. "I'm sorry, is that too --"

"No, it's good. I mean, I'd love to sit and watch a movie with you too, but honestly, we'll both enjoy this better. Now... the washroom is the first door there. It's kitted out with everything you might want. Go take a nice, relaxing shower and get all cleaned up. I'll wait here."

Myra narrows her eyes. "I'm pretty clean; I had a shower this -- Oh god, do I smell bad?"

Tristan chuckles and touches her elbow lightly. "No, you smell like an angel, but I'm going to eat your ass for the next hour and a half, minimum, so I thought you might want a shower. But it's fine by me if you don't. Either way, I'm eating well tonight."

Myra has to bite back the noise that threatens to come out of her, squeaky surprise and a lustful moan, all rolled in one.

"That's a good girl," he murmurs, still smiling slightly. "Into the bedroom, then." He follows close behind her, swatting playfully at her bottom as she goes.

In the low-lit bedroom, Tristan backs her up to the bed and reaches for her waist only to frown and stop. "What on earth are you wearing?"

"It's a romper. It's cute," Myra says.

"Yeah..." he says, not sounding convinced. "It's all one piece though. Guess you'll be naked." Tristan spins her around and gropes for a closure before turning her to face him again. "Take the damn thing off."

Myra laughs and squirms out of the offending item of clothing, standing before him a moment later in a lacy purple bra and white cotton panties.

"Usually a girl's panties match," Tristan says, fingers curling into her waistband before he pulls them down.

"I'm not one to stand on ceremony," she says. Tristan turns her with guiding hands on bare thighs. "Plus, the panties are in the wash. I didn't want to wait the whole cycle for them."

"Elbows on the mattress," he instructs with a chuckle. Myra gets into position, feeling very open and exposed, and is about to say so when she feels Tristan's hands on her cheeks, spreading her ass further.

Before she can even breathe in anticipation, he dives in lips first, kissing at her hole. He runs his tongue up and down a few times before switching back to kissing it.

Myra's mind is blank, completely blank, while he French kisses her asshole. If asked at this moment to describe what she feels, she would fail utterly. She whimpers once, twice, before her knees give out.

Tristan growls and hauls her onto the bed by her hips. "Face down, ass up," he orders. He positions himself behind her and goes right back to what he was doing before: eating her ass and making her brain blank out.

Slowly, as he works her hole into a hot, loosened, slippery mess, Myra is aware of how wet she's getting. Fluid, drool or her juices, maybe, slides down her pussy lips and drips off and this sensation makes her wheeze out a broken sob.

"Okay?" he asks, pressing three fingers into her calf. The touch draws her attention and grounds her.

"Yeah," Myra says. It comes out in a whine. "So good."

"Yeah, I knew you'd like it. Your ass is perfect. You are perfect, my girl."

"Fuck me?" she whispers, turning her face to catch a glimpse of him.

Tristan chuckles. "Trust me, I want to. But your sweet hole isn't ready to take me." To punctuate his message, he slides his fingertip along her slickened asshole, catching slightly on the rim, and making her jolt.

She's on the verge of hysterics, so worked up and needing a release. "My pussy then. Just fuck me, please? I need it so bad, I'm going to --"

"Ah-ah," he says. "That's not allowed. You know that."

Tristan slaps her ass, stinging and swift, making her gasp and howl. He repeats the motion a few times on each side until Myra is shaking beneath him. Then he's back between her reddened, burning cheeks, lathing his tongue over her needy, sensitive hole.

Myra is in for a very long night.