Emily comes up with really interesting role plays. In this challenge I was to dress up, go out and ‘pull’ a man, telling him I was a married lesbian who wanted to experience ‘normal’ sex before my wife got home. It would therefore have to be quick, dirty and torrid.
Well, who could resist that?
Enter stage left the LBD, the Little Black Dress. All girls have something like this…a small scrap of exquisitely cut material that shows the figure underneath without giving everything away. Sadly while mine can and often is worn with ordinary undies, it really needs my nemesis - a thong. Miss brain chose, to my surprise, a black one.
Knowing what I was going to do, naturally I was moist long before I put the thong on, and that means of course, when I took it off, whomsoever was with me would see the heavy creamy staining in the crotch. Oh well…
So, off I went. I picked my venue well. No nightclub for me with its loud, booming music, men with their cocks almost hanging out and a total inability to use the restroom since they are usually being used for sex or drugs. No. An art gallery.
It wasn’t long before I knew, with that sixth sense all girls have that I was being followed. I’m something of an old romantic and ‘modern’ art holds little fascination for me. I found myself staring at a particularly entrancing scene similar in many respects to Constable’s Haywain. The sky was exquisite and so well painted one could actually feel the chill in the air and the cold wind, not strong, just puffs of icy breeze. “Rather evocative, isn’t it?” A cultured voice of the man who had been following me asked the question, so I responded. “Yes. Indeed it is. One can almost feel the chill.” I turned to look at him. Mid 30’s maybe. Possibly older. (Turned out he was 40.) Greying hair, piercing green eyes, and very pleasant to be around. I noted the Rolex and how it wasn’t ostentatiously “Look at me, I got a Rolex, innit?” worn, and his suit was clearly high-end. Not that that mattered, it was the person rather than the clothes. Anyway, if my plan worked, the clothes would soon be on the floor.
We viewed the rest of that floor together and the inevitable offer of coffee or a meal was made. Well, it was 6:00pm and I was hungry. He took me to a nearby restaurant and we swapped some basic life-story credentials. He’s married (of course), then again, so am I. His wife is a surgeon, and I timed it perfectly “Oh, my wife is a lecturer.” Disappointment? No, rather curiosity. “Oh, you’re a lesbian? I didn’t know.” Well of course he didn’t. We don’t have it tattooed on our foreheads. I waited, timing the pause to perfection. “Actually, I’m bisexual. My wife is lesbian, but I’m definitely bi.” Hope sprang into those gorgeous eyes. Breeding made him avoid saying “Oh, thank God for that.”
Coffee arrived, and the chat flowed easily. I waited for him to propose the next step…and waited…and waited….and waited. Finally, “Do you get many opportunities to practice your bisexual side?” Elegantly put. “Not as many as I would like.” Tease him a little more, Anna. “And you. Do you propose sex to many younger bi-sexual girls?” He didn’t bat an eyelid. “Oh dear. Was I that clumsy?” I assured him he wasn’t. Then he said, “Look, I could spin you a tarn about an unhappy, unfulfilling sex life at home, but the truth is, my wife and I enjoy a very frequent, varied and interesting sex life.” (Bugger) “But, and I’m sure you know this only too well, no man in his right mind could not want to have sex with you.” (Yep..that’ll do!) “You would then? Like to have sex with me?” “Of course. We are monogamous only by convention, not by nature.”’
He followed me back to my home in his Porsche 911.
In the bedroom, he made love to me exquisitely and skillfully. I actually felt deceitful since I knew Em was watching everything. Straight sex…me on my back sex, me on all fours sex, me sucking his wife off his cock sex, and boy, could he last the course! He got me to that stage when I was cumming almost constantly. While he was in my from behind, I felt his thumb graze my bum hole a few times, probing slightly further each time and clearly testing whether or not I would allow anal contact. Finally he said, “Anna, it’s no good, I simply have to ask. Do you like it…here?” Again that light touch on my secret hole. “It’s the one thing that is, not appreciated at home.’ And so….
I reached around and guided him. As he pushed into my bum, part of Miss Brain wondered why it seems to be so much a ‘thing’ for straight men? Ask them to fuck a guy up the arse and they’ll run for cover, but present them with a wildly sexual girl, and it’s all they want. Maybe some of you guys can explain the fascination for me.
He was equally skillful at anal sex as vaginal sex. Oh, and when he gave me oral! Fuuuuuuuck! That tongue of his! I really couldn’t tell you how many times I came before he finally orgasmed. Gentleman to his fingertips, he asked me not only how and where he might cum, but also if! Choices, choices. Miss Brain reminded me that it’s been a very long time since a man has cum on my face, so that’s what I asked for.
As he stood beside the bed, cock in hand, he looked down my body. I could feel the comment coming. “If I may say, you look very young. At least he had the good Grace not to ask if I really was ‘legal’, but then I know a lot of men have ‘age’ fetishes. “You can imagine me as whatever age you like. Think of that very first girl you noticed as a young teenager yourself. Imagine I’m her.”
Some of my friends simply won’t allow their partners to cum on their faces. They see it as being subordinate, being used. Well, I AM subordinate, and I adore being used sexually. Let the good times roll.
He came on my face as requested. On my cheeks, lips and glasses too. One shot went into my slightly open mouth.
After he left, I found Em who had been watching the whole encounter in the cinema. Her panties were round her ankles and the room smelled of her sex. I was still naked and had his semen still on my face. Em has been fucked by The Lovely Chris. She’s even had anal sex with him. Heterosexual sex is something she would do for me because she knows it gives me pleasure, but it’s obviously not her go-to for sexual relief. She kissed me, and therefore tasted him. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh! He tastes nice!” She doesn’t know that all men taste slightly different. How would she? More kissing became more urgent kissing which morphed into me sinking between her legs and enjoying the fruits of her labours. Post cum, Emily ‘leaks’ prodigiously, and it is pure nectar from the gods.
When she went down on me, it was punctuated with, “Mmm…I can taste his cock on your cunt………..and your bum hole………..he’s all over you, you dirty cunt.”
Right now, Dani lives here. We have Alice too. There is a tension in the house. So far Dani and Alice and I have had some fun, and Em has had Dani, but I feel the day is coming when all four of us will wind up in a hot, sweaty heap of girlcum and sweat. It’s just a matter of when….and what the catalyst will be that starts things off. Part of me wonder what would happen if Dani and Alice became a ‘thing’?
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