This is part of a short story that I wrote a while ago – it is written from Emma’s POV. The characters: Sophia (older woman in her 40s) and Emma (much younger in her 20s) – are in a changing room in a shop. Emma is a student who rents a room in Sophia’s house. The sexual tension has been growing between them culminating in this scene.
The corset falls to the floor and she is so stunningly beautiful in her nakedness. She immediately falls forward, her hands on the mirror, her heavy breasts swaying, pushing her ass out for more. She is panting. She wants this.
“Spread your legs a little. Show me.”
My first sight of her, there, draws me like cool water on my hot skin. I have to touch it. It looks so good, pink and glistening, the trimmed black curls wet and silky. My fingers run down the line of her pussy. Holy mother of god, I feel like I’m going to explode. My clit feels huge pressed against the seam of my jeans and I want to just rub myself all over her.
“So beautiful…” I watch two of my fingers sink into her body. “I want to do so many things to you…” In and out, long, slow slides; twisting and bending. “But not here, I want to hear you scream and beg, we can’t do that here. For now, I want to make you come. I want to see your face and feel your come on my hands, taste it on my tongue, in my mouth.”
“Yes.” She moans. “Please, make me come. I’ve wanted it for so long…”
Her sentence ends on a strangled yelp when I withdraw my fingers and put my mouth on her. There is no finesse here: I hold her open and devour her, tonguing and sucking her. Lapping with a soft tongue; driving into her, my tongue a rigid spear. She is a wet mess and it is all over my face.
She tastes so good, tangy and tart with an underlying sweetness that I know I will want to savour time and time again.
Her legs are shaking now. I slap her ass, feeling the vibration on my cheek just before I pull away. I wipe my face on her rosy skin. I don’t want to make her come this way the first time – I want to see her face.
Standing up, I pull her into my arms, kissing her, lashing her with my tongue, making her taste herself. Walking her backwards, I stop when she is pressed against the wall.
“Your clothes…” She gasps.
“Later. Spread your legs.” My hand lands on the wall by her head, the other takes hold of her full, round breast. I squeeze it, pinch and pull her nipple, until her eyes roll back and her head hits the wall. “Like that?”
“Yes, oh yes.”
I slap her there, hard but not as hard as I want to. I’m not sure how far to go yet.
She opens her glazed eyes as she moans my name.
“How about that?” I struggle to swallow, waiting.
“God, yes. Again, please…. harder.”
I give her what she wants, watching her breasts move, the skin turn pink and her desire run down her leg.
I feel a trickle of sweat roll down my spine.
My eyes roam over her flushed face: her mascara has run a little and there is a fine sheen of sweat on her upper lip. She has never looked more perfect to me.
I want to give her what she needs.
My fingers find her slippery clit. She bites her lip, looks slightly panicked, like it’s too big, too much for her to handle. I rub and stroke her, dipping my fingers inside her then spreading her wetness all over her pussy. I use my whole hand, working every part of her until she is grabbing hold of my shoulders, up on her tip toes.
“Oh god! Oh god! I can’t…”
“I want to see you.”
“Yes.” She gasps.
I thrust three fingers inside her and fuck her hard.
“Oh shit!” Her words are shaky, her mouth trembling.
Her fingers will leave bruises where she grips me.
I watch her breasts move every time I fuck into her; her dark nipples tight and swollen. I dip to take one into my mouth. She cries out, I move my hand to cover her mouth, wondering fleetingly what it would feel like to hold her throat. She takes a deep breath through her nose – her eyes wide – a muffled moan against my palm.
“Come on!” I urge, watching my fingers fuck her. I curl them inside her and bang the heel of my hand against her clit.
My eyes go back to her face as I feel her whole body clench. She squats down, rolling and thrusting her pussy onto my hand.
“That’s it, take what you need.” I whisper.
Puffs of air on my damp palm as she closes her eyes and screams out her orgasm into my hand. I don’t stop fucking her; I feel a warm rush of wet heat. Her gift to me.
She sags against me for a moment. I stroke her hair once, twice, feeling her breathing slow and readjust. Taking hold of her hair, I pull her head back to see the knowing in her eyes.
“On your knees.”
Our eyes are locked as she sinks to her knees in front of me. Defining moments are often only recognized when a person looks back, reminisces; but I know that this is it for me. Right here, with this woman on her knees before me. I have imagined this so many times, but the reality of it surprises me; it leaves me feeling humbled and powerful at the same time. A strange dichotomy, to be savoured later.
“Hold your hands behind your back.”
I unzip my jeans, pushing them down my legs, shedding another layer of uncertainty. Gripping her hair, I bring her mouth to my aching pussy. I hear the faint sound of somebody coughing in the shop as she takes her first taste of me. My head rolls forward to watch. I really must remember to stay quiet.
Thanks for reading. Hop on over to Kayla’s place for more Masturbation Monday goodness.
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