tagFetishCum On Robyn

Cum On Robyn


When the doorbell chimed, I was naked - except for the shoes. I'd put on a pair of heels, expensive Louboutins I keep for inside wear only, for when I wanted to enhance the feeling of femininity and to make me feel sexy. Putting those shoes on and examining the effect in the mirror always makes me feel good. I adore the way the height of the heels exaggerates the length of my legs.

Nudity and those shoes worked their magic when I answered the door. I saw the boys' faces and was thrilled by the hunger I saw.

Ignoring their gape-mouthed stares I took a step back. "Come in. Welcome," I said, fighting the urge to touch myself. Then I turned to walk away, moving down the long hall with an extravagant sway to my hips.

Get a good look at that boys, I thought, feeling their eyes on my buttocks. I knew my legs and backside looked good, after all I'd worked bloody hard to make sure the muscles were firm and taut, the effort getting more difficult the older I get - So why not give the two young men a chance to appreciate the rear view?

When I reached the living room door, I paused and threw a look their way.

Seeing them still huddled on the front step, I pouted and said, "You're coming in, aren't you?"

The fair-haired one stumbled when he took a step inside, his eyes fixed on me.

I grinned at him and said, "Careful. We don't want you doing yourself an injury."

When I moved out of sight I heard their mutters: excited jibber-jabber, exclamations of disbelief from the blond, to which Carl replied, "I told you, didn't I."

"Come on," I called. "Don't be shy." The encouragement caused urgent whispers and a muffled argument that I took to be them egging one another on.

I smiled to myself and settled on the sofa, crossing my legs and reclining, one arm along the top of the upright, laid horizontal with fingers outstretched in an affectation of nonchalance. Truth be told I think I was as nervous as the two at the door mumbling back-and-forth. Anticipation had been building all afternoon, tummy fluttering while my pussy oiled and the hour of the rendezvous approached.

Now it was on me. They were here.


It all started with Keith and his voracious sexual appetite, and although Keith is no longer a boyfriend, his legacy remains.

A weekend in London saw us in the Peter Jones store off the King's Road. It was Saturday afternoon, we'd had a drink or two with lunch and I suddenly needed to pee. We found the loos and in I went, not realising Keith was behind me until I was in the cubicle about to close the door.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, an idiotic question, really.

I knew Keith well after a few months with him, well enough to know he was capable of just about anything when he was in the mood, especially after a drink. I was both anxious at him being there and thrilled at what he might do. My tummy fluttered and I felt myself oiling between my legs.

"Get out," I hissed, shooing him away with the back of one hand.

Keith just smirked at me. "Shut up," he said, nudging his chin at me. "Just get in there."

It was an automatic response; I stepped back and Keith entered the stall.

"I can't," I said, cheeks burning. "Not with you in here."

Keith ignored me. He rolled his eyes and told me not to be so silly. "If you don't want anyone to know I'm in here," he added, unzipping his jeans, "then stop yabbering on."

The sight of him all big and hard brought a gasp out of me.

He grinned and stroked his length.

"Come on," Keith murmured. "Have a piss and suck on this."

The two doubles at lunch, Keith's hard cock, and the fact we were in a semi-public place did it for me. I lifted my skirt, yanked my knickers to me knees, and sat down on the ring, fingering my clit while my water tinkled into the bowl, Keith's girth stretching my lips.

It was so desperate, so sordid; I couldn't quite believe I was in that cubicle with my boyfriend's erection in my mouth.

I rubbed myself, the sensations delicious, one of those times I knew my orgasm would leave me wracked with pleasure, every nerve tingling.

The setting must have affected Keith too. He was mumbling nonsense as he alternated between fucking my mouth and working a fist along his length.

"Tits," I heard him gurgle. "On your tits ... Come on."

It got a little awkward after that because Keith, it seemed, wanted to unload over my breasts. Not a first, he'd done it before, but I wasn't so far gone that I was mindless to the consequences. If I wasn't careful I might end up with jizm all over me, and strolling round London with spunk in my hair wasn't a situation I relished.

"Keith," I warned, my hand coming up from between my thighs. "I don't think that's a good idea. You might make a mess and-"

"I'll make a fucking mess all over your shirt front," Keith grunted.

He jacked at his cock with a crazed look in his eyes. I looked up and saw his face all twisted with lust. His teeth were bared in a silent snarl, jaw clenched. He certainly looked like he was about to let it go, and the threat of his outpouring all over my blouse took my fingers to the buttons.

"Shit, ah shit," Keith gasped. "Look at those tits. I fucking love those big beauties."

With the explosion imminent I shrugged the blouse down off my shoulders. I wanted it as far away from the eye of Keith's cock as I could get it. I needed it well out of the firing line.

With my blouse gaping and halfway down my back I then levered my boobs from my bra, the sight of my breasts triggering another round of muttering about their size and weight and how much Keith loved seeing them.

To be honest, by then, with Keith groaning and going on, with him cranking his cock right in front of me, and not forgetting someone could disturb us at any moment, I was getting more than a little agitated myself.

Worries about semen catching me across the face or flicking into my hair melted a little. The concern didn't wholly leave me, but my own dark desire to see Keith's spunk flying went some way to dissipating the anxiety.

Suddenly I wanted to feel the hot stuff spattering onto my skin.

"Go on, Keith," I urged. "Come on my tits." Excitement brought the lewdness out of me as I hefted my breasts in my palms and offered them to him. "Spunk on me. Cover these in jizm."

Keith gurgled like a drain unblocking. He gaped down at me, jaw dangling, wide-eyed when the lewd exhortations reached him.

"Fuck," mumbled Keith, his throat working. "You dirty mare. You filthy tart."

I warmed to my theme, one hand back at my pussy while I reached for him with the other.

"Here, let me," I said, fist cranking.

It had occurred to me that the best way to limit the collateral damage would be if I took over. That way, when Keith came, at least I had some control over where the muck would land. I had some experience with Keith and the spread of his ejaculate, not to mention the volume, and to see him worked up like this meant there was enormous potential for carnage.

"Let me wank it out of you," I added, gasping. I had two fingers inside me by then, two digits curled up so I could rub at a special place in there. I could also flick at my clit with my thumb, the combined actions causing a hitch in my chest as I moaned and grunted, my own climax shimmering on the horizon. "Come on my tits, Keith," I gulped. "Cover them in spunk."

It went on for another half-a-minute. I worked at Keith, tugging hard at him while I squirmed against my other hand. If anyone had a need to use the toilet during that time there's no way we could have stopped: the train was coming, its brakes useless.

"Ah, fuck," I heard Keith groan. He gasped and grunted, body tensed with effort. "Shit," he muttered, and then the stuff began to fly.

I did my best to muffle the vehement bursts, enveloping Keith's cock with my breasts. But I was getting there myself, my own orgasm was on me, and although I managed to check much of the outpouring, I still took a couple of squirts beneath the chin. During the deluge one ricochet spattered against my thigh. But fortunately my skirt was well up around my hips, which meant the stray dollop of goo didn't do any damage and I got away remarkably unscathed.

As Keith's climax cooled and the flood eased to an ooze I hit the wall. I let go of him, jizm sliding over my skin as I felt the tsunami wave of delight hit me. I moaned and gasped, fingers corkscrewing inside me, thumb going at the nub of my clit. Slippery skin beneath my palm as I squeezed my breasts kept the pleasure train rolling. Spunk squelched between my hand and my breasts when I massaged the gloop all over, the feel of my own spongy softness and Keith's jizm getting all sticky prolonging my enjoyment.

It was a dirty, sordid thing - the two of us in a toilet cubicle, his cum on my flesh while I revelled in the sleaze. It was a depraved thing to do, but something about it lingered in my mind for days afterwards: a grain of sand that would grow into a pearl of obsession.

Later on, after I'd wiped at myself with toilet paper and some paper napkins Keith pulled from the dispenser outside the stall, with jizm all sticky and dried on my skin, redolent of cum, the scent of sex wafting up from me in the heat of a packed Tube train, desire to do it again came over me.

Unfortunately Keith had to go. The silly man couldn't resist poking his dick into other women, something I might have been involved with if he'd asked, but he did it on the sly and lied to me. So I got rid.

That left me with a dilemma at first - I had no boyfriend with whom I could explore a little kinkiness. And then it dawned on me I didn't have to limit my options, so I began to explore my dark urges a little more deeply.


Some fence panels needed replacing, and imagine my delight when the company I hired sent a fit, good-looking young chap to fix it.

I fancied Carl immediately, the sentiment reciprocated - obvious by the glint in his eye and the way he immediately started up with the banter. Carl's eyes widened noticeably when I opened the door to him, and he positively boggled when I sauntered out in a skimpy two-piece, the innuendo thick and fast after that.

The cocky type doesn't usually do it for me; I'm not too into the cheeky chappie with all the patter, but my libido was revving and the warm weather has always made my pussy snarl. Add Carl's boy-band looks - short dark hair, gleaming teeth and tight bod - to the mix and I was too hot and squirmy to resist.

I laid it on thick and really let him have an eyeful of my curves, the suggestive remarks growing ever bolder as we batted double-entendre back and forth. In the end, with Carl almost frothing at the mouth to be at me, I wound him up tight and told him I was looking for fun with more than one man. He gaped at me, mouth hanging open, visibly stunned by the revelation. He was trembling, hands shaking as he warbled at me that he had a friend...

Getting him out of the house took some doing. He really wanted to get at me there and then. The poor lad was desperate for me - and I was tempted to let him have his way - but I wanted to prolong the exquisite agony, knowing the orgasm I eventually enjoyed would be so much better for the wait.

"But, Mrs Banks..." Carl mewled when I finally got him aimed at the front door. "You mean it, don't you? You're not winding me up. If I come back tonight with me mate..."

He was on the doorstep, wild-eyed and frantic for reassurance I wasn't yanking his chain.

"Carl," I managed to reply in a steady voice. "I assure you, I mean it. Come back later with your friend..." I stepped back, lifted the bikini top away from my breasts, enjoyed the boggle-eyed response the action received, and added, "...And you can cover these in spunk."

When, following that remark, I slammed the door and rested my back against it I was trembling with excitement and desire. Exposing myself like that was such a thrill. It was akin to the time in the toilet cubicle with Keith, when I had his cock in my mouth, I couldn't quite believe it was me who'd said what I'd said - imagine, me offering myself to a complete stranger!

And his unknown friend - a man I'd never even seen!

Now they were at the door, two of them. I was naked except for those shoes, lust siping from my pussy, limbs trembling with anticipation despite my attempts at a calm demeanour.

I sat and waited, impatient for it to begin.

"Carl?" I called out. "Come in. Bring your friend. I'm waiting!"

My own desire flared hotter when I saw Carl appear, his throat working as he gulped.

"Mrs Banks," the young man gurgled.

Carl's friend, a cute one I put at eighteen, maximum, hovered behind, flicking blond hair out of his eyes.

My pussy growled at what I'd unleashed. "Come in," I beckoned, hearing the catch in my voice. You dirty old tart, a voice whispered in my head. "Let me see the pair of you."

They sidled in, casting glances at me, yearning apparent yet too nervous to do anything too bold. I was well beyond their experience. Even if Carl had been full of it in the garden he was out of his depth now.

When they were both in the room and side-by-side in front of me I knew I'd have to take control, be stern with them.

"Look at me," I said, uncrossing my legs and swivelling square on to them. "This is what you've come for, isn't it?" I hefted my breasts, knowing the effect their weight in my palms would have.

"Oh, fuck," I heard the blond mumble.

I seized that response, my insides clenching, lust hot in my veins. "You like these big tits?" I breathed, deliberately crude.

I had the satisfaction of hearing him mutter another obscenity when I ducked my chin and hefted one breast, licking the nipple, eyes fixed on his face.

"Nude," I said, releasing my boobs so they swung free. "You two. Now!" I clapped my hands twice to reinforce the instruction.

They both blinked and just stood there, feet nailed to the carpet, bug-eyed and unmoving.

"If you want me to suck your cocks, you better get out of those clothes." I shifted my bottom, shunting to the edge of the settee, legs widening. "Hurry, boys," I murmured. "I'm so fucking horny..."

They gulped in unison, Adam's apples' bobbing when I split my labia with a forefinger.

"You know why you're here," I added, splaying myself wide. "You wanted this, Carl. You were up for it before. Don't tell me you're all talk." I dipped a finger into my opening, gasping and wincing in emphasis. "I said I'd suck your dick. I said I'd be naked for you." Winking at Carl I then pouted and added, "What is it? Don't you like me without any clothes on? Don't I look good in the nude?"

"Mrs Banks," Carl croaked, slowly shaking his head. "You're ... I mean ... I didn't..." His cheeks ballooned as he sighed.

"You look fucking gorgeous," the blond interjected.

I turned my attention to him. "Then why are you still dressed? I thought you were both coming round so I could suck your cocks." I threw a glance at Carl. "That's what I said. Didn't you believe me?"

"Uh-I dunno, Mrs Banks," Carl replied. "I mean, I hoped it was true, but..." He gulped again, blinking, obviously not too sure what the hell he'd been thinking.

I stood up and put both fists on my hips. "I thought I made it plain, Carl. I told you what I wanted. Do you think I put that bikini on just to tease you? Did you think I flashed my tits for a laugh? That look on your face when I wandered out and you saw my body...

"It got me all hot and bothered flirting with you. I could see you ogling my tits, Carl. Seeing how much I turned you on got me so fucking horny...

"Do you know what I did - this afternoon, when you'd gone?"

I saw him shake his head, jaw slack, an idiotic look on his face. "No, Mrs Banks," Carl mumbled.

Throwing a thumb over my shoulder, I said, "I sat on that settee and rubbed my pussy. I fingered myself and came, thinking about watching you wank. I came and came, Carl, my head full of your cock spitting spunk on my breasts."

"Aw, shit," the blond whined at the lie. I hadn't really masturbated, but using profanity got me going, and I could see it worked on them, too. "Carl," he said, "for fuck's sake, mate..."

Then he was past his friend, almost shouldering Carl out of the way as he hauled his tee-shirt over his head.

"...I'll do it for you, Mrs Banks," said the blond. "Fuck, just look at her, Carl. Look at those tits."

I grinned at him, thinking how bloody lovely-looking he was, what a gorgeous surprise, especially when he had his shirt off and I could see the lovely contours of his chest.

"Touch them if you like," I said to the blond. "Suck them, feel me. I'll wank your cock and suck it; you can spunk all over me. "But," I added as a reminder, "no fucking."

Carl just gawped while the blond toed at the heels of his trainers.

"What's up, Carl?" I teased, chin jutting towards his friend. "Shy?" Then I chuckled when I saw the blond's fingers at the button on his jeans. "'Cause he's in a hurry; he isn't shy." Then I gave a little yelp of delight when I saw the hard length of Carl's friend waggle into view. "Oh my," I sighed. "You were right, Carl, he is a big boy."

I squirmed a little and stared at that boy's gorgeous cock. It was a superb specimen: thick and veiny with a slight upward curve, the head big and angry.

Penetrative sex, for me, is superfluous. I usually get more of a thrill from touching and sucking a big hard cock rather than taking it inside me. Not all the time, sometimes a nice little fuck gets me there, but I'm happier slurping at a hard-on and hearing the man moan. I love it when they go all glazed in the eyes, my fist cranking away while I watch their faces. The power I wield is such a buzz. I can work at an erection, savouring the firmness of it in my hand until the hot stuff flicks out.

I love to watch a man masturbate, his fist jacking himself until his toes curl and he groans. I can sit with my fingers curled inside myself or rubbing hard at my clit and watch him come, jizm spurting, his gasps and moans taking me there as well, desire sluicing out of me. And it all got better after the interlude with Keith in that Peter Jones store.

The blond was naked, unsure of what to do next as he cast an anxious sideways glance at Carl.

"It doesn't look as though Carl's going to be much use," I said, smirking. Then, eyebrows raised I thrust my chin at the long curve of that erection. "So what about you bringing it here so I can touch it?"

The young man didn't move, he simply stood where he was and stared at me, prompting me to take the initiative.

I walked across to him and curled my fingers around his girth, murmuring, "Oh, now then, that's a thick one." I worked my hand up and down the length of him for a few strokes and took hold of one of his wrists with my free hand. "Touch me," I sighed. "Feel my breasts."

He moaned and squeezed gently, his face slack with whatever was going on inside his head.

"Don't you just love being naked?" I asked.

I kissed the boy's cheek, my hand cranking at him.

"Bare skin, nude," I sighed. "Isn't it delicious?"

"Mrs Banks..." the blond whined.

"It's okay," I replied as I jacked at him with one hand and cupped his heavy testes with the other. "Just let me take care of you. Try to hold it in, but if you can't, if you're going to come, tell me."

I kissed his cheek again and then looked at Carl. He'd been so cocky and sure of himself in my garden, so glib with a ready retort, ogling my boobs when he should have been fixing the fence I'd employed him to repair.

"What about you, Carl?" I asked.

He blinked at me, licking his lips, which must have dried out with his mouth hanging open for so long.


I laughed with the pleasure of it: two men in my grip - one literally.

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