Cuckolding for Beginners Ch. 19

Sandy blushed more than I did; Billie had prepared a wonderful dinner and we thanked her as we ate our "vegetable stew" with chips and peas. A weird combination but one that worked well.

Of course, the chatter turned to sexual matters: Billie's initial surprise that I wasn't lying about my bisexuality to impress her had waned and the large glasses of red wine were removing the svelte woman's inhibitions.

"I don't know you're bi," she blurted out as I finished my dinner. "I've only seen you with Michael. You might be gay."

I sighed. "Well my relationship with my wife allows me to eat out pussy." I stared at her. "I just need to borrow a woman."

She pouted, sighing dramatically. "I am not bisexual or straight," she replied firmly, gulping her wine. "You aren't touching my cunt." I shrugged at her denials.

"Then I can't prove my sexuality. Not that it matters, you know I love cock and I'm married with kids so loving a woman is obvious."

"Or ..." Billie motioned. "Or maybe you're gay. Maybe you are staying together for the kids, so your wife gets to have other lovers. Lovers with big balls of cum that want to fuck a hot little wife while you go around sucking men and having big, thick cocks stuffed up your arse." She rested her head on her arms, smiling as her eyes permeated my gaze. "And so you're together, on the outside you're a married couple who adores each other. But really you're this cock hungry slut who can't wait to get his next fix of cum. Can't stop thinking about the long, thick shafts that penetrate his ring and fuck his sissy little mouth. That's why you wear panties, because you long to be a woman. You'd not want to go near a woman's cunt any more than I want to touch your cock." She cackled as she downed her wine; the teasing rampant.

"Sandy, may I go down on you?" I looked at Billie's girlfriend, causing the shy blonde to splutter into her drink and nearly choke. "Because I adore eating cunt. I adore watching a woman squirm and writhe, squealing out my name as I take her towards orgasm. I love the slippery feel of her clit against my tongue and the smooth elegance of a female silky body. And I adore kissing a woman's butthole, sliding my tongue against her sensitive skin and feeling every quiver, every jolt of electric lust and every sizzling enjoyment of her sensual orgasm." I glanced at Billie watching her girlfriend intently, staring at her for any sign of emotion. "As I said, give me a woman and I'll show you."

Sandy screwed up her face as Billie nodded; her cheeks blushed and she screwed her fists together. Was my new friend coercing her? Was this consensual?

Sandy sniffed and nodded. "OK."

"You sure?" I heard myself mutter.

The scared expression replaced by a feint smile. I tried to read her body language. I needed to see consent; a desire to be publicly touched and not being navigated into a cul-de-sac. I wanted to see something.

I got it. She nodded, getting up from the table and held her hand towards me, over the head of her partner. Billie kissed her midriff and the two women exchanged loving gaze. "Love you," the political secretary whispered into the belly of her lesbian lover, staring as I was led to the expansive sofa.

Sandy placed a towel onto the cushion and sat down, pulling me towards her and pressing her lips against mine. It should have been natural: the soft feel of her plump lips kissing me, but I recoiled in shock. She looked into my eyes, almost disappointed.

I wanted to eat her pussy, and bury my face between her legs. I wanted to taste her juices and smother her cunt with my tongue, drawing her towards orgasm after orgasm, and yet the act of kissing felt alien. The precursor to lust was almost strange: an unwanted diversion in my quest to find her delicious cunt and savour her sweet nectar.

But yet, she was sexy: incredibly sexy. Why didn't I want to make out with her? "Sorry," I muttered. "Didn't expect it." I cocked my head and moved in for the kiss. She was soft; sweet, gentle movements as her tongue slid against mine.

Her hands touched my body, my fingers played with her golden hair and swept over her neck. I toyed with the smooth orbs of her breasts, rolling her nipples between my fingers as we snogged; long, beautiful kisses that pushed her back onto the sofa and left her breathlessly expectant.

My kisses travelled down her body; gentle osculations on her neck, flicks of her nipple with my tongue, long smooches in her belly that left butterflies fluttering inside and gentle teasing pecks on the top of her mons.

Her smooth, hairless mons that bathed in abundant sexuality; an advert for my tongue and an invitation to me to push my lips against her crack. My mouth floated around her inner thigh, inhaling her sensual aroma that tickled my excitement. Fragrant, delightful femininity; the smell of a young lady eager and excited; aroused and slick.

Her legs were open, splayed to allow access to my mouth; she groaned as I flicked at her cleft, softly poking to the soft, slick wetness underneath. Her legs quivered as my tongue brushed her clit, making her cunt twinkle and sparkle with lustful magic.

I loved the feeling of her slippery wetness against my face, feeling her squeal against my tongue as I massaged her clit into breathless grunts. She writhed, bucking her hips as she noisily appreciated my efforts.

And I loved it. I loved the feel of her dripping crotch pressed against my face, and the desperate sounds of female satisfaction emanating from her cunt. I loved the feel of submission as she seized gratification from my efforts, without wanting or able to reciprocate. And I adored the public spectacle, knowing I was little more than entertainment for the two flat-mates.

She panted, and rocked, muttering obscenities as my tongue swirled over her button, feeling her body shake underneath the forearms holding her thighs apart. I pressed a finger against her hole, hearing her simper as it slid effortlessly past any resistance.

She panted, gulping and squealing as I scissored her cunt with my fingers, watching the lust seize her expression as she neared her first orgasm.

I was soaked; the aroused woman squeezed my fingers with her cunt, yelling into the silence of the room as her muscles quivered and her body lurched into waves of naked relief.

But she wasn't done; I wasn't done. I lifted her thighs up and buried my face against her perineum, flicking her butthole with my tongue and slipping against the whorl of her anus.

Her cries became louder; no longer mewling and squealing but deep, booming yells of unadulterated lust. Of sin. Of desperate thirst for more and more sexual relief.

And I was happy to quench that thirst, pressing my mouth against her tight whirl and sliding my fingers into her slippery cunt. She gasped as she snatched breaths; her legs shook and shuddered, trembling as I brought her hurtling towards her second orgasm.

Stronger than the first. Much stronger. Her cries and yells filled the room; her wetness soaked the towel. Her quivering muscles clenched tight and her breathless squalls of sated relief caused my cock to stand.

"No more," she begged and weeped as my fingers found her G-Spot. She recoiled in lust, panting as I pressed hard against her insides, rubbing her with firmness. She squirmed and she pulled a cushion onto her face, screaming into the fabric pillow as I took her into her third orgasm.

Her cunt glistened with juices: the air was thick with the scent and taste of female satisfaction. The slippery slide of her cunt gently allowed my fingers to depart, as her body rocked by her third climax, slouched onto the sofa, her face appearing from behind the beige cushion.

I smiled at her; she smiled at me. "I told you I wasn't gay," I said to Billie; her own fingers circling her clit. "I can take care of that for you," I said with a wink.

She leant against the wall, shaking her head at the offer. "Wrong gender. But thanks, I hate giving her head. She loves it to receive it. Makes a change from Micky doing it!"

With a sweetest grin, the scheming woman walked past me and jumped on her lover, kissing her passionately.

I looked at Michael. "I better head off."

He nodded. "Sure. Unless you fancy going to a party tonight. I could do with the company!"

"What sort of party?"

He looked at the snogging women on the couch. "A place where free love reigns supreme and girls aren't allowed."

"A gay party," I blurted out and he just smiled.

"I prefer a festival of fun for the open-minded man."

I shrugged. "Sure. I got nothing else to do."

"Oh, one more thing. It's fancy dress. I need to lend you a tracksuit." My eyebrows raised. "It's go as a Chav."

Classy.

Or not. But it was tremendously good fun.