Playing With A Boy

I must say, it is always interesting to shower with my nephews outside the bathroom door. At six and ten, they find me to be a constant source of entertainment.

Questions abound from them, with my normal answer. Do you want the truth, or can I lie to you? They prefer my lies on most topics.

They leave me alone long enough for me to dress. As soon as I leave the guest room, they want to know where I am going, what am I going to do, why won't I stay with them, etc.

At the doorway, I give them hugs and kisses. The six-year-old tells me I smell "pretty," and his brother agrees.

You're going to go with a boy, the six-year-old tells me.

Oh really, I question him back. What makes you think that?

He then tells me about how I smell "pretty" and girls who smell "pretty" go play with boys.

Can't beat that logic.

I announce my intent to see them in the morning, telling them the "inquisition" is over. The ten-year-old wants to walk me out to the driveway, to make sure I get to my car safely. In his socks, he runs out before me, opening the car door. Before he closes the door, he wants a solid confirmation from me I will not miss his final football game. I give it to him.

A few miles later, I'm where I want to be on this Friday night about sevenish.

As I enter the house, I'm greeted by his dog. The dog seems pleased to see me, I think. I sure hope I get the same response from his master.

I know there is a plan. . . I get to "choose" my favorite seat! In my wicked mind, there is no choice.

I'm going to "sit" where there a man has strapped himself to his bed!

I take off my clothes, as quickly as possible. I still have the dog's attention; after I pull off my jeans I feel the familiar cold, wet nose on my ass. Must be a "dog" thing. Once over the shock of the nose, I'm left standing in a crushed velvet piece of lingerie. The dog approves.

In sheer moments, I am bounding into the room where my friend has himself tied to the bed. A sight I like to see-- a man, in my underwear, tied down spread eagle.

Yup. My nephew was right. I was indeed planning on playing with a "boy!"

I was already wet, from the time I put my jeans on after my shower. Nasty thoughts filled my head, knowing a tongue would soon be in my pussy made me all the wetter.

Casual greetings are exchanged, I attempt to be a gracious guest. Like a child, I want to "hurry up and dig in."

Kisses are exchanged. My friend has a long tongue, sucking on it turns me on. He frees his hands from his self-imposed bondage (which I find to be extremely sexy as well as delightful!) and I am treated to his hands roaming all over my ass.

I'm the consummate time-waster. I enjoy the thrill of pleasure denied; making pleasure obtained all that much more magnificent once realized. . .

Not tonight.

I break from the kissing, to place my ass right over his face. I was invited to sit at my favorite place; how impolite of me not to make my choice known?

His hands spread my ass, allowing him access to my wet pussy. The initial dive of his tongue into my snatch causes me to lean forward onto his wall. If the wall wasn't there, I bet I would have fallen over from pleasure.

All I can think about is how bad I am, how corrupt my need to fuck and be fucked is. . .

I know I'm going to be fucked. Fucked so damn good, I won't be able to stop thinking about his hard cock for days. Or, longer.

Fuck me, I think. Seriously, fuck me. So what if I spend most of my life as a mean, hateful bitch. . . I want to be nasty.

I'm thrown from my personality thoughts by the start of an orgasm. I know I am going to cum. Hard. I force myself to hold back, to stop myself. I want more tension. I want the evil orgasm, the orgasm that makes me feel like I am on fire. I feel his tongue, working my clit. Fingers are in my pussy. . .and I am so fucking wet.

I pull myself away just a bit, to give myself a "rest." I want to cum, I want to delay it, I want to fuck. I don't get too far away, for my friend pulls me back down onto his face.

He shoves his tongue up into my pussy. I know moans of pleasure are escaping my lips. I can't hear myself. I look over my shoulder, to see his hard cock in my panties. The panties don't do shit for covering up his dick. Good for me-- the mere thought of hard cock puts me back onto my path of orgasm.

Holding back on an orgasm is far more difficult than finding it. I can practice delayed orgasm by myself- it is a true challenge when a man is controlling the action on my pussy.

I stop holding back, and it happens. I can hear the low moan of my friend, as he drinks in my pussy juice. A finger on my ass makes the orgasm that much more intense-- I feel greedy for enjoying such pleasure.

Not missing a beat, my friend removes the rest of his binds, and I lay down on his bed. He dives back into my wet pussy. I want more pleasure, I'm anxious to be fucked.

I spread my legs as far wide as they will go-- I want him and his fabulous tongue to partake of all the pussy he can handle. His fingers are in my pussy; I know I'll cum again and again and again...

He slips a finger in my ass. How much wetter will my pussy get? I can't stand it, yet I want more. Much more. I feel his tongue on my ass, then back to my pussy. The sensation of his tongue, his fingers- the smell of him, the smell of my pussy-- I'm moments away from more orgasms.

I don't even bother to hold back. I submit to his skills, submit to the pleasure I want. I know I'm not pouring pussy juice-- my pussy is on fire! There is no way to describe what my pussy feels like; I can't continue to restrain my desire for a fuck, to have his cock shoved up me.

As my orgasm subsides, he does exactly what I want.

Hard.

He shoves his big, fat cock into me, and pounds me. I've come so much, my pussy is ready to feel the maleness of him. As he is fucking me, giving me everything his dick has- I find the light flush of his skin to reveal what I already know. . .even in the low light--

He's going to fuck me harder, then he's going to cum.

I lose myself in stupid thoughts for a few moments. . .can my pleasure been seen in my dark eyes? Can he see the magnitude of my pleasure? Does he have any idea of what he does to my body?

It starts again.

Another orgasm.

When he pulls out of me, he gives me one of his trademark sayings about keeping a hard dick...

I've cum so much, my mind is mush. The fucking was so grand, so enjoyable-- I know I want more.

Pleasure denied makes for pleasure realized. . .

We drink wine, and I listen to him talk. I have a bad case of the giggles; he has a way of talking about himself and his life-- he is who he is! Goofing off, flirting, picking on my toes-- all that stuff keeps my pussy wet.

I reach an impasse. Do I get up, put on my jeans, and leave? Should I not be so fucking greedy; should I not impose my pussy any longer into the situation?

Fuck it, fuck me. Yes, fuck me! Who am I kidding? I came to "play" with a "boy" and I had found myself being thoroughly fucked by a man.

I make my move, sorta. I tickle, and move my hands down to my panties. The ones he is wearing. . .

I can feel his lips on my neck; my pussy is wet again. His cock grows in my hands, I think my nasty thoughts. It doesn't take long for the kissing to begin, then his fingers up my pussy.

I ask him what he wants to do, hoping the answer to be fuck you. As he tells me, bit by bit, I can't stand myself. My nipples are hard, and he's taken the time to grab my breasts, lick and suck my nipples. . .

Words about fucking my ass drive me insane. Yes, I want him to fuck my ass.

His hands are in my pussy, fingers in my ass. He offers me a finger that has been in my pussy; I wish I could be ashamed to say I like my pussy juice. I'm not, and if tasting myself makes me a corrupt woman- fuck it.

He moves down to my pussy, giving me a few quick licks on my clit. My clit has been rock hard all evening, hiding out under its hood. Breathing on my clit drives me wild. His fingers are in my ass, in my pussy, then back in my ass. Fuck me, fuck me!

He motions for me to roll over- so I can take his dick doggie style. The feeling of his cock in me- in my red hot pussy-- yes, fuck me.

His strokes are long, powerful; my pussy feels so fucking full. As he fucks me, I wonder how much more I could take. . . his fucking me was so good, so depraved- I came again.

After he takes his pleasure from deep in my pussy, he lays down on top of me for a few moments.

I'm not one to ask a lot of stupid questions. I can't stop thinking about his cock in my ass. I loose myself in the thought of his tongue in my pussy, him licking my ass, bringing me off. . .

My mind then turns to more misbehavin'. . . cold lube on my ass. The tip of his hard cock at the most private part of my body.

The pleasure of the entrance. The satisfaction of taking all his cock up my ass, feeling my pussy quiver from pleasure. To have my pussy, then my ass fucked.

I get pulled back into reality. I don't know or care what time it is, yet I know it is time to leave before I wear out my invitation.

Or worse yet, wear out my gracious host!

I don't make promises, I say what I am going to do and do what I say. I find myself sitting on the sidelines- with my six-year-old nephew on my lap. We are bundled up in blankets, and he's asking me a million questions about what a "cornerback" does. . .

The game goes on; I jump up to cheer my other nephew. I feel the marked soreness in my lower region.

A reminder of my indulgences with a "boy."

And, my concentration is ruined with thoughts of partaking in a sensual ass fuck.