The Job

"That's good," she murmured, her mouth moving to envelop the other nipple and torture me again. I tried to think of Alex, but the way her fingers were moving wasn't the way he touched me, and Sarah was lying on top of me more now, so I was more conscious of the soft flesh of her breasts pushing against me, of the skin of her stomach and her thighs, of the fact that it was a woman who was making me feel this way. I couldn't think of him, all I could think of was the sensations in my nipples, the feelings between my legs, the feel of her.

And then, inevitably, her hand moved to my stomach, stroked me there for a moment till I was enjoying the relief, and then moved back between my legs. But this time inside my knickers. The touch of her fingertips was like a red-hot iron as she played with the hood of my clitoris, stroking it, squeezing, pulling a little, so my hips lifted under her hand and my head thrashed from side to side, and I moaned and whimpered in spite of myself.

She ran one fingertip slowly down the length of my swollen lips, then stroked it back up again, pressing slightly so my lips opened for her and she felt my wetness. That was when she sat up.

I knew this was it, this was the moment I had been forcing myself not to think about ever since I'd said I'd come to Southampton, ever since I said I wanted the job, and particularly ever since, earlier this evening, I'd said I'd do whatever I had to do to get it.

Sarah knelt beside me, her left hand caressing my breast, her right hooked into the waistband of my knickers. She pulled the front down a bit, just enough to expose me completely. For a long moment she looked down at my sex, open, aroused, wet.

Available.

Then she pulled my knickers down my legs, held them up for me to see, and said quietly "You won't wear these in bed again, will you." It wasn't a question, and I didn't say anything.

She spread my thighs wider than they had been, and knelt between my legs, her eyes fixed on my sex as her hands pushed my knees even further apart. What must we look like, what must I look like?

Then she took my lips between her fingers and spread them wide, opened me. And smiled at what she could see.

Her left hand moved to my breast, her fingers playing with my nipple as she extended the first two fingers of her right hand and, looking me right in the eye, slid them into her mouth and sucked them. Oh no, please no.

She smiled again as her hand, palm up, moved closer to my sex, till I could feel her fingertips touching me, feel the saliva coating them.

"I seem to have been waiting for this for a long time," she murmured throatily. "We've wanted you for months, you know." I never thought about the "We" at the time, only remembered it later when it became suddenly, belatedly important.

Slowly, so slowly, so deliberately, she pushed her two fingers into my body, pushed them all the way in till I could feel her knuckles against my lips, thrust them deep into me. Making me hers, finally taking my body. I tried to think of Alex, to think it was his fingers, it was him, but I couldn't.

Her fingers were slim and smooth as they penetrated me, sliding in, turning, rubbing, smooth and gentle against my g-spot, the soft swelling of exposed nerves at the top of my sex. The tips caressed me there, made me cry out as they were suddenly pressed hard against me, then gentle again as they slid in and out, in and out.

Her thumb was on my clitoris, too, pressing down, working me, playing me like some musical instrument so I whimpered and moaned, my body twisting around her hand, around her thrusting, insistent fingers. I was lost now, utterly lost in the sensations.

In fact I was now so aroused I didn't really care when she moved again, lay down between my spread thighs, when I felt her fingers spreading my lips again, when I felt her breath on my wet, open sex. But when she kissed me there, then I cared - I cried out, quite loudly, I think, at the explosion of sensation produced by that soft and tender kiss.

I'd been forcing myself to think of my husband, of what it was like when Alex went down on me, of the slight bristliness of his cheek on my thigh, of the strength in his fingers, or the forceful way he licked and sucked me to orgasm, which he did fairly often. But this was nothing like that. This was so soft, as Sarah had said, so sensual, so very sensual.

It was bliss, to be honest, pure bliss, so erotic I was in heaven as another woman's mouth moved over my sex, another woman's tongue slid into me, another woman's lips caressed and sucked at my throbbing clitoris. I didn't care any more, not about the job, not about Alex, not about anything. I just wanted to come, to come in Sarah's mouth, to come again and again.

Of course she didn't let me. She kept taking me to the brink, and then easing off. I couldn't say how long it went on. Five minutes? No, a lot more. Fifteen? Maybe. Thirty? Quite possibly. I writhed and moaned, my fingers pulling at my own nipples, my hands caressing my aching breasts, my body on fire with arousal. I said "Please". I begged. I tried grabbing her head to pull her into me, but she batted my hand away.

I was hers, utterly and totally hers. My body was completely at her disposal, and she was going to enjoy it for a while longer.

Finally she let me come, and I flipped over the edge with the ease of an Olympic gymnast, my hips jerking so violently I'm amazed the kept her mouth on me, crying out, even screaming her name at one point as a great rolling orgasm swept me away. It seemed to go on and on and on, so I cried out, I remember, "It won't stop, Sarah, make it stop, please make it stop." She didn't, she just thrust three fingers into me and took me further into ecstasy.

In the end it was over, of course. In the end I lay there gasping for breath, my stomach twitching with the aftershocks of one of the biggest orgasms I've ever had in my life - and I come easily and often. Her soft fingers stroked me, I felt her hair on my thigh, a gentle kiss on my sex made me jerk violently and beg her to stop, she rubbed her cheek against the inside of my leg, caressed my mons, my stomach, reached up and squeezed a breast.

Then she slowly moved up my body, dragging one of her breasts over my sex, making sure I felt every inch of her as she moved. She kissed my stomach, a nipple, my neck. And finally she kissed my mouth, so I tasted my own arousal for the first time in my life. She slipped her fingers, still wet from my sex, into my mouth and had me suck them. She smiled gently, and held me close, and I felt, I'm ashamed to say, a warm glow. I felt sexually satisfied, and that felt good.

We lay together for a while without moving as Sarah let me recover. Just for a moment I felt really close to her as she held me, her free hand caressing my breast so softly, my head against her shoulder, my chest pillowed on her full breasts. But the moment soon passed as I remembered how she had got me into her bed, why she had made me feel the way I did, and of course what she was going to make me do next.