30 Days or Bust: Day 08byl8bloom©
All characters in this story are age 18 or older.
I was dreaming about Lisa. We were in the ladies' room, but this time it was different. She was naked from the waist down and bending forward over the marble sink. I was inspecting her beautiful bottom.
In the dream, there were no limits. I could make love to her as I pleased.
I placed my hands on that magical pair of curves, the place just below her midriff where the hips begin their lovely swell. I have always loved that part of a woman.
I rubbed her ass, simply enjoying the feel of skin on skin, and she murmured her pleasure. Then I knelt and guided her feet to shoulder width apart.
It was then that I saw she had shaved only the very bottom of her pubic hair. A sweeter pear would be hard to imagine. I drank in the sight of her plump, pink labia and steamed my breath upon the delicate flesh. Lisa moaned and wiggled again. As she did so I could see her lips slide around, obviously lubricated and becoming more so.
It had been my intention to kiss the backs of her thighs and knees, to lick her inner thighs and tease her on my way back north. I forced myself to do this, peeking often at her treasure and enjoying her soft groans. She said my name and begged me to kiss her there. She spread her legs wider.
Soon enough I lifted my face to her womanhood. I held her ass cheeks apart and poked my tongue in her ass, which made her jump and giggle. Then I got down to business.
Lisa, my Lisa. A more beautiful shaven pussy I have never beheld. Deliberately I dragged my tongue along one full pouting lip. My nose was right up against her, getting wet with her juices and dizzy with her scent.
I nibbled; she gasped and got wetter. I could not resist, at this time, dipping my tongue in her sweet little honey pot. That's what it is there for, after all. Right away I could tell she'd been eating a lot of fruit. She was as sweet as she was sticky.
The other lip deserved attention, too. I licked its full length, as far as I could, breathing hotly against her sex the whole time. Then I rolled that succulent flesh in my mouth. Lisa wiggled her ass, sending me her signals of pleasure and urging me to continue.
Finally I held her apart with my thumbs and moved into full-out oral attack. This was the tongue-lashing she richly deserved. She fell forward into the sink and spread her legs as wide as she could. I ate her until I couldn't breathe any more, slurping in the girl-juice she sent my way, and lastly wiped my face on one velvety cheek.
I had to feel her. There are so many ways to finger a woman, and I didn't know yet her favorite touch. This was a joy, not a concern, because I looked forward to showing her everything I knew. My middle finger got the honor of becoming my first Lisa-naut. Her groan was deep and loud. I curled my finger, stroking her inner walls.
Just as her cum was raining in my hand, she opened her mouth again, but instead of animal cries of orgasm, I heard a brass gong sounding.
The disorientation only lasted a moment. I smacked the alarm, not too hard, and stared up at the ceiling.
At the same time, the phone rang. I answered it with a growl. It was my boss, Jantzen.
"Checking what?" My voice was still gruff.
"Making sure you aren't spending the night with Lisa Arthur."
I sighed loudly. "I'm a professional, Leo."
"Good. You're taking Doris Perkins to an art show tonight."
"You said the Arthur case was dedicated. I'm not supposed to have any other clients this month."
"Mark, in a perfect world, it would be. But Shaun has a cold and Tyré is on vacation. It's your turn to take a hit for the team."
"All right, all right," I grumbled. "What time."
"Pick her up at six. Her Wish is the same as ever."
* * *
Doris Perkins was a widow with a shrewd mind for business. Under her insightful, if sometimes brutal control, her late husband's fortune had flourished. She was, in a way, a Godmother, but not the sweet fairy kind. More like the kind who would make you an offer you couldn't refuse.
A fixture in the tony circuit, she was constantly surrounded by people, and yet I have never met someone so alone. Her trust levels tended toward the negative end of the scale, and she expressed herself through facts rather than emotions.
I felt sorry for her.
The guard had my name on his list, so I was ushered through the gates of the Perkins manse with no trouble. A short distance on, a valet took my car, and a modest limo drove me to the palatial front doors.
"Mr. Goodbody." The butler gave me a nod of approval. He had a fetish for all things on time. "Madame will be down in a moment."
"DAHH-ling!" Doris flounced down the winding staircase and held out her hand for me to kiss. I did so, then turned up her palm and traced her lifeline with my tongue.
Doris was pleased. "Naughty boy," she smiled. The folds flexed around her beetle-black eyes, but thanks to Botox, not by much.
Every time I saw this woman, I wondered if in another life she would have been a kindly grandmother. Without the excess makeup and overdyed hair, without the too-white teeth and artificially wrinkle-free skin, she might have looked ordinary, even approachable. But what stood before me was a caricature of sorts, a bad joke of a human. I had to wonder if she really liked herself.
We swept into her limousine and headed downtown. This was always the most awkward part of my date with her, for we really had no interest in one another's affairs. I told her how lovely she looked, and she preened, accepting her due. We made small talk until the grand entrance.
Then things became much easier. I was her boytoy, charming and attentive, fetching her drinks and occasionally caressing her when someone was looking. People crowded near, hoping to gain her favor in this life and the next; for surely a nod in the Perkins will would be in the form of six figures or more.
I followed her into the ladies' room. She chose a private chamber within, and lay back on the velvet fainting couch.
"Vultures, aren't they."
Her flat, rasping pronouncement surprised me. I looked up from massaging her feet.
"The patrons of the arts?"
"No, no. All of them out there. They hover around, waiting for me to die, pecking at me even now. They want my money," and she said it like it was a dirty word.
I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. This was just as well. Doris seemed to be in a ranting mood. I continued to tend her feet, slowly and thoroughly, as she spoke.
"...bowing and scraping, they make me sick. Fakes, all of them. Not you, though," she went on. "You never pretend you love me. I always get an honest night's work out of you. What's your name, anyway?"
"Mark," I reminded her. I had serviced the lady a handful of times. Maybe she had so many servants, for so many things, she couldn't keep track – or didn't bother to.
"Mark," she reflected.
Doris leaned back and sipped her drink. She nodded to herself, as if she had come to some sort of conclusion. A faint humming sigh escaped her lips.
By now I had reached her knees. Doris adjusted her skirts. The rustle of satin might have been the opening bell of the Merc.
Her lacy crotchless panties were in full view. The grand dame lifted her knees, anticipating the moment of glory.
With a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, she commanded me to get on my knees and lick her pussy. I slid my hands under her arse and got to work.
Unbidden, the dream of Lisa floated into my mind. I forgot all about Doris Perkins, her money and her vultures, and made love to my woman. Smokers don't taste so good, but you know, mind over matter. I ignored this minor distraction and kissed her anyway.
Shamelessly I laid wet French kisses between the lace parentheses. The passionate assault made Doris slam her drink on the little side table. Something fell. I didn't stop. I went for the kill. Soon enough she quivered and shouted.
Delicately I teased the bud of her clitoris with just my tongue, but she pushed me away from her swollen button.
"Too sensitive." My employer was breathing hard. "My god. Who is she?"
I picked up her handbag where it had fallen, and gave it to her. I didn't tell, and she didn't ask again.