Helen's Evening

He prodded her thighs with a foot, and she opened her legs as wide as possible and placed the backs of her hands on her knees without request. He sat upright in the seat, and she mimicked his movement to achieve the same result - her chest thrust out, shoulders down. Posed and poised.

Albeit with a leak starting again between her legs. Damnit. Why did her body betray her so quickly when she was with him? He was obviously aware. Those clips on her rings were about to get wet. That material was going to get drenched. Did he think that that was enough cloth to collect it all?

The passing thought that he was not as clever as he thought he was, left her head a split second later.

It was now she found out the purpose of the connected clips, for he leaned forward and picked up the cumpot. With one hand opening her labia and smoothing the little strip of material flat to the mat, his other placing the glass squarely on it.

The simple device had the effect of pinning open her lower lips over the glass, the metal clips clinking dully on the lip, the sound deadened by the liquid inside. Any drop leaking from her now would automatically drip into the glass. If she sat too high, the material would upend the glass; too low, and her clit risked rubbing the rim and potentially knocking it over, the liquid into the mat or her carpet.

She didn't know whether to be aghast at this, or amused. The weight of the glass would effectively keep her in one place. If she moved without removing it first, she would lose its contents. Her hands were still on her knees. She was immobile for the moment.

He was obviously turned on by her predicament. A small tent had started in his trousers. Standing up, he started to remove them. Briefs too. His shirt followed; he tended to overheat.

She watched him without daring to move. He was tall and leanly built. Strong looking but without the overly bulging muscles which usually indicated self obsession. Sinewy perhaps. His flat belly despite his middle age was a turn on for her and he was sporting a developing erection by the looks of it. She felt like she was salivating.

He approached her, his cock now in her face. She opened her mouth obediently, and he fed her with his girthy hardening flesh.

Conscious not to move any other part of her body, she kept her tongue as flat as she could and felt him probing towards the back of her mouth. Closing her lips around him, she tried to create a bit of suction, and to grip him effectively.

It was obvious he was turned on; he was very hard in her mouth. Wrapping his hands around the back of her head, he started a few pelvic thrusts. It jarred her head slightly but she didn't care. She wanted to be used. Abused. A living sex toy for the moment.

Her mouth salivated.

She was feeling very horny at his use of her; feeling a few more of her own dribbles on her inner thighs as they cascaded down to join the rest in the glass. Pinned to the spot and taking it all.

That last thrust was right at her tonsils.

She concentrated on keeping him straight in her mouth, her tongue as a guide. Her eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy; no other part of her body dared to move. He seemed to be alternating between having his head back in apparent pleasure, or staring down at her with a hard blazing look on his face. Those moments usually accompanied a forceful forward thrust.

She took it all, happy to be the temporary recepticle for his cock. It turned her on and frustrated her in equal measure. Wanting to move her body, to grip his shaft, to gyrate and control the angle but desperately not doing so for upsetting the glass between her legs. Having to remain still and just have her warm wet mouth used for fucking made the whole experience even more obscene. She felt heat rising in her face; his hands on her head. She felt a little heady. She gasped in oxygen whenever she could.

He seemed to be getting closer and closer to his own climax. She sensed his change in breath, in posture, in ferocity. It excited her more than anything else.

And then he stopped. He pulled his cock out and stood before her, a stream of precum and her saliva slickly coating it. His helmet was almost purple, the veins almost looking painful.

Why?

Why had he stopped?

She had been ready for the final shot.

Willing for it.

Aching for it.

Needing it, like an addict for cum.

She found herself begging.

Begging for him to use her.

Begging for him to fuck her.

Begging for him to take her.

Pleading in her eyes.

Why had he stopped?

She wanted him inside her.

Fuck me. Take me. Screw me. Bend me over. Any hole. Any place. Any where. I need you. I want you. I have to have you.

"Anything."

She was pleading out loud now.

She'd do anything. Anything.

The glass!

His eyes flicked down.

The glass that prevented her standing. That kept her effectively pinned to the floor. That had kept her lips open for so long. It was obvious what she needed to do to demonstrate the urgency she was feeling, the necessity she had to feel that cock filling her; wouldn't even care where he'd put it.

He had never mentioned it.

Never asked her to touch it.

Hadn't offered it as an option.

But it was the only way. Staring him straight in the eyes, she lifted a hand from her knee. He grimaced but didn't say anything.

She plucked the cumpot from between her legs. Cautiously. Carefully. Deliberately.

A curious look on his face now.

She raised it to her lips.

How else could she prove that she would do anything? Prove that it wasn't just all words? Prove that she deserved his final climax. His face was full of anticipation.

Throwing her head back, she drained the glass in one gulp, the sweet smelling nectar filling her mouth momentarily before cascading quickly down her throat.

The quantity wasn't half bad on reflection. She had expected a slightly more acidic quality to the liquid; thought it would have been a more pungent taste in such a volume. It was like a womanly flavoured water. She had had taste of it before. How could she not? A copious squirter, she had had it on her fingers during those quiet lonely evenings. On her fingers cleaning it from her thighs; from the sheets on the bed during a quiet few moments after her child had gone to bed. Tasting her fingers was very different from drinking from a glass. Better in fact. Actually quite pleasant. The thought of what she was doing was more erotic than the act.

She wasn't about to tell him that though.

He didn't need any encouragement to think of even more perverse elements to their love making. He had enough ideas that kept her entertained and involved. She smacked her lips contentedly as though draining a fine wine or whisky. Licked her lips as nonchalantly as she could, keeping it sexy and alluring.

She put her cumpot deliberately back on the table out of the way, pointedly not on her pussy torture device.

Damnit, she had started leaking again. She needed stimulation there. Desperate now but trying to stay demure and relaxed.

It had worked though.

His cock waving stiffly in her face, he was helping her up; her legs unlocking from the position on the ground. She got her feet under her. Her heels didn't help much and she made a few Bambi type moves before he had got her bent over the sofa arm rest. Her face was pushed down to the seat cushion; her breasts swinging low. She felt like a pretzel, pushed into a large arch, her heels keeping her bum high and her head much lower.

Her feet apart.

Her thighs apart.

Her weighted lips apart.

She could imagine the view from behind. She could feel her ass cheeks open; a slight cooling draught from the door to the much colder hallway. Her pussy was pulled open and displayed and she could only imagine what that looked like for him. She struggled for a smile in her head. She felt like an opening rose, the folds of flesh displayed enticingly. Reaching between her legs she took a gentle hold of the makeshift strip of material and twitched it a touch more. It shook the heavy clips. It teased not only him, but the stimulation was returning her to the brink of yet another of her own orgasms. Her breathing deepened. The flush was returning to her face.

It proved too much for him.

The target open alluringly, it was now calling him almost. One swift movement saw him inside her. Thigh to thigh. His kempt pubic hair at the crack of her ass. Her pussy clenched and pulsated with the excitement of his intrusion. She was rising fast to her peak. A couple of pumps and they had both cum.

Simultaneously it had seemed.

The taste of her own sex on her tongue still, his erection deep inside her lower lips. The excitement of the evening events: all too much for her. One last pull on the material connecting her lips and it was one long drawn out climax that she felt shattered the Earth.

Gripping her waist with both hands, he was as deep as he could go. Her pussy flexed happily around him. One last drip of her arousal unfortunately dropped to the arm rest of the sofa.

A low moan.

Who made that?

It must have been her.

He was too controlled.

Yep. There it was again.

Just a moment! She needed a moment. Her heart rate needed to abate.

Her brain struggled to come back down, but was doing so slowly.

He was no longer behind her. A grey shape now in front. Her eyes focused. His knob was beside her. Her head was being held.

What?

Oh!

Sure.

He wanted her to clean it up. She shifted her position and opened her mouth obediently. White creamy residue coated him from tip to ball sack. She slavishly sucked him clean. Tongued his shaft. Licked it dry too as much as possible.

One last humiliation.

One last control.

One last act of debauchery.

One last memory of the night that would repeatedly play in her head forever more.

Looking up at him, they smiled at each other. It was over. It was time for that ready made bed with new clean sheets and soft pillows that she had prepared. It was time to curl up together and spoon perhaps and fall into delicious sleep. Feel his arms around her.

He needed the toilet.

Pausing to playfully pat her on the head with his now flaccid cock, he left the room and she heard him ascending the stairs, leaving her still presented and open.

...

She looked across at the glass.

She rested her head back down on the seat cushion; felt the draught from the open door at the crack between her legs.

Felt the flex in her taut legs, angled by the heels she wore. Felt the drag on her pussy from the attachments. Felt the drip of descending spunk on her thighs. Tasted the drying semen residue in her mouth.

She reached for it.