TINGLES SEVEN
By Katharine Sexkitten
I had come full-circle.
As Brad waved goodbye to his wife driving away to her lesbian date, I stepped inside the front door to the foyer.
This was where Jessica was born. This house, this altar of love, where I learned my true feelings, my true desires, my true nature. In high heels now, I stood on the exact same spot I had stood just barely six nights ago, saying goodbye to Brad, with his wife's thigh-high stockings on my legs under my pants. Wearing his wife's panties, which earlier he'd told me to put on. Panties that were soaked with cum. My cum, in the front, from cumming twice in the course of a half-hour.
And Brad's cum too. Seeping out of my freshly-fucked asspussy. His cum.
Six nights since he'd taken me. Taken my virginity. Busted my anal cherry. He'd made love to me.
He'd fucked me. Relentlessly.
Six nights since he'd taken me. And make no mistake, I'd willingly let him. I'd wanted it, needed it. He'd ignited in me tingles that were demanding it, insisting that he slide his seven-and-a-bit inches of thick pulsing maleness into my ass. Into my pussy.
Into my soul.
It was, to that point, the greatest night of my life. The greatest experience I'd ever had, bar none.
Not yet one week ago, when I'd discovered what tingles were.
The tingles that can only be felt when one is truly aware of one's own being, when one is open to accepting the spiritual vibrations being sent out by others, sensations of pleasure and passion and lust and joy.
Tingles that can only be felt when one is horny, and when one allows oneself to truly be themselves.
In my case, coming face-to-face with my heretofore unknown femininity. Coming mouth-to-cock with Brad's fantastic penis.
And then coming, and cumming, asspussy to cock as he fucked me into heaven.
I stood as he closed the door and locked it, remembering the feeling last Saturday night of having his cum running down the backs of my thighs. I remembered the unbelievable thrills I felt, right to my soul, from the cab ride home, knowing his cum was seeping out of my gaping asshole, my pussy, possibly staining the cabbies upholstery, and wondering what the guy would say if he'd known that his fare was a cross-dressing slut, who had just within the last hour discovered she was sexual, that she adored being held and kissed and caressed by a man. A real man. An alpha man. I wondered what the guy would think if he knew I was a CD slut for cock.
Because that's exactly what I was thinking.
I am a CD slut for cock.
I smiled as Brad approached me, looking like a kid who'd been allowed into the candy store after hours and could eat whatever he wanted. Not just allowed, no. He'd been encouraged. His lovely sexy wife, Carol, had pushed him to explore his bisexual feelings, and while she was out getting her pussy eaten by the expert Hazel, her husband was going to have a night he'll not soon forget.
He took me into his arms again, my hands going up to the back of his head and running through what little hair he had, while we kissed. My soft glossy lips, melting into his bigger meatier Greek lips. We both moaned. This was how it started last week.
And this was how we were starting again.
Slowly his hands wandered down my back, and then onto my ass cheeks. He clutched them, and pulled me to him, groin to groin.
He was very hard. I could feel him. His cock was just as enormous as I remembered it. And the wave of pride that swept through me then was palpable.
His cock was as hard as steel. Because of me.
Life, I reasoned, does not get much better than this.
I rubbed him with my lower belly.
We both moaned again.
We made out for many minutes more, both of us luxuriating in the feelings of each other again, both of us enjoying the newness of our relationship but with a taste of familiarity, which for me felt so much better than I'd anticipated.
Carol had said to keep her panties to remind me of the great man we shared.
I was over the moon, with our man.
Eventually we broke our kiss, and just looked into each other's eyes. Gazing. Revelling in how we were feeling, how we enjoyed each other.
"Wow," he said quietly, "you told me you'd bought a lot of clothes, and wigs and makeup and stuff, but holy fuck! Jessica, you are fucking gorgeous! Did you see the look on Carol's face?"
He laughed out loud.
"She's an amazing woman, Brad. You know that, right?"
"Oh fuck yeah," he replied. "I don't know too many guys who are as lucky as I am. Seriously. A great job that pays me a shitload, a great family, a great house and property, tons of money in the bank, and a wife who not only still loves me and shares a great sex life with me, but actually encourages me to follow my other sexual feelings." He paused. "My bisexual feelings. I mean, c'mon, who else do you know has all that? It's like I won the lottery."
He was almost beside himself with glee, standing there holding me, his male co-worker, who at the moment was dressed in a dark cashmere sweater, a high-waisted camel-coloured pencil skirt, bra, panties, thigh-highs, heels, wig, jewelry, and makeup.
Looking decidedly un-male.
And feeling like I was the luckiest gurl in the world.
Emphasis on gurl. Not a woman, but a gurl. A cross-dressing gurl. A sexy slutty feminine cross-dressing slut.
A sissy?
My mind started to be curious. How does one make the distinction? And then I thought, who cares? The important part, I realized, the only part that mattered, was that I felt most natural when dressed like this, felt most free, felt most honest with myself, felt most sensual and feminine and lustful.
I was Jessica.
"Plus," he continued, "I have the most gorgeous gurl over tonight, someone who makes me feel so special. And someone I want to make feel special too."
He squeezed my ass cheeks on the last syllable, and pulled me even more into his body, even more into his grip, even more feeling his love, feeling his lust, feeling his amazing cock. So naturally, we started kissing again, slaking our thirsts for each other. We were like teenagers, who've just discovered how fucking fantastic making out is and can't stop doing it.
We were like lovers.
After a few more minutes we broke, my chest rising and falling faster than his, and he shook his head.
"Wow," he whispered, "when I kiss you I lose myself. All I can see and feel is happiness, or maybe joy. Maybe bliss."
"I know," I said, "I feel it too. My tingles. Which means one thing, Brad. This was meant to be!"
"Agreed!"
We both giggled.
"Would you like something to drink?" he asked. "I have champagne."
I nodded. "I'd love some champagne, darling," I replied.
He started to try to disentangle his arms from around me, but I stopped him.
"But before that," I breathed out, slowly, "I want to suck your cock."
His smile was huge. The kid in the candy store just found the sweetest treat!
I kissed my way down his body, nipping at his right nipple with my teeth as I passed by. I heard him take a crisp deep breath at that. I kissed the outside of his cock, through his pants, while my fingers started opening his belt and clasp. Soon, his pants fell to the floor, and he stepped out of them. Then my fingers found their way to the top of his briefs, and I slid those down too. Although I had to gently pull them out wide in the front as I descended, making sure I took pressure off the garment where his great big yummy delicious cock was tenting it. Did I mention delicious? I learned this quickly, as a fact, because as soon as the head was exposed I licked it, the underside up and past his pee hole and then over the top to the flare of his magnificent cock head.
He stepped out of his briefs, and threw his shirt off too. There he was, the man who inspired me to discover Jessica, the man who had transported me to a nirvana I'd never thought possible, the man who had made love to me like a woman, who'd fucked me like his woman, who'd pounded me and pile-drove me into sexual and sensual oblivion, the weight of his body flattening me into the mattress, the sheets of his marital bed soaked with our cum.
Mostly my cum.
My right hand grabbed the shaft of his cock, almost sizzling with the heat of his lust. I lifted him up, and my mouth dove down and enveloped his left ball, instantly bathing it in my saliva, washing it clean with my tongue. He moaned out loud and I felt his hands settle on the back of my head, running his fingers through the hair of my wig.
I vowed then and there to grow my own hair out. If a man was going to caress me that way while I was orally pleasuring him, then I damn well wanted to feel every inch of it.
After worshipping his left ball, I moved to his right, adoring it in much the same way. My hands just naturally found themselves on his cock, caressing and rubbing his shaft, his skin, exciting and enticing him, letting his know of my desires and my lusts and my primal preternatural feelings.
This was love incarnate. One person concentrating themselves on nothing but pleasuring themselves, by providing even more pleasure to someone else.
Love incarnate. I was a feminine cross-dressing CD slut, and I was doing what came most naturally to me.
I was Jessica.
Loving my man.
Soon though, my passion for his balls morphed into my greater need, so I left his ball sac and licked up the underside of his shaft, slowly, twisting to and fro and back and forth and making sure I covered every square millimeter with my saliva. When I got to his cock head, I moved my tongue to the right, circled around the big flared head of his cock, and all the way around the other side.
His hands became a little more forceful on the back of my head.
My tingles went BOOM! And exploded into the stars.
He wanted me to suck him.
He needed me to suck him.
So I opened my mouth, looked up into his eyes, which were burning with lust, and swallowed as much of his cock as I could. Right there. Deep inside my mouth. Instantly. My lips closed around the skin of him, beginning to suck, tasting his musk and his precum which was flowing like a river, my taste buds orgasming on their own as his clear love liquid smothered them. His grip on my head became much more insistent, making me know what he wanted.
He wanted to fuck my mouth.
Which presented me with a challenge of course. Since he was just over seven inches long, that meant he wanted into my throat. I was still new to the world of cocksucking, and while I had gotten into it like a fish to water, it still required physical dexterity that was relatively new to me.
But was I going to NOT let him fuck my mouth and throat?
NO WAY.
Not this gurl. His hips started moving, slowly at first and then with increasing ferocity after a few minutes. The whole time he never let go of my head, and I never wanted him to.
The feeling of a cock penetrating my mouth, back and forth, owning me, taking me, every single cell in my body alive with joy, my eyes closed, riding on the cosmic ocean of tingly slutty waves, I was euphoric. I was alive!
He sawed back and forth, every thrust putting the giant head of his wet solid cock up against the opening to my throat. I gagged a couple of times, which I'd learned to expect and understand. It was part of the physical process of throating. I choked and coughed and teared up a little bit and none of those negative things stopped me from pushing forward.
I was taking him into me. All the way.
I was deep-throating this man. My man. Tonight. Right here. Right now.
My brain screamed to the stars in the loudest girliest voice it could imagine.
I AM JESSICA! I AM A SLUT! AND I AM TAKING THIS COCK INTO MY THROAT TONIGHT!!!!
After more gagging and coughing and choking and sputtering, I sailed into the mystic level of Eden, the rapture that is feeling a man's pubic hair up against my nose and cheeks as the entirety of his male fucking stick was inside me, orally. In my throat. In my gullet.
In me.
Not for long, mind you.
When he popped into my throat, when his glorious cock opened up my windpipe and plopped itself right about where my voice box is, I heard from above me an almost-strangled moan, a deep masculine voice in the most joyous of torment, his entire shaft and head buried inside my wet slobbering mouth, the head inside me, pointing straight down, to my tummy, aimed at the very spot he wanted all his cum to go.
Directly into my belly.
I realized he was about to cum. Don't ask me how, since I'm not the most experienced CD slut at this, but somehow I just knew it.
So I started pulling him out of my throat.
This slut wants to taste that cum!
But I only got him part way out when his hands held me in the grip of death and he started moaning completely unintelligible sounds, repeated and hurried and sharp and from his soul. And then he came, like a firehose.
Immense gushes of his cum shot out of him, most of it going straight into my throat, unexpectedly, and almost drowning me.
I had to cough, or face dying, so I did, shoving his cock out of me in a hurry, and the majority of his creamy yummy load went all over my face.
Another first for Jessica.
I'd been painted.
GODDAMN IT I LOVE MY NEW LIFE!!!!
I knew Brad was a big cummer. After all, he'd cum in me last weekend, both my slutty mouth and asspussy, and I will never forget how much cum the man could generate. This time, though, was a record-breaker. A Guinness Book moment. A write-home-to-mom story, if mom was the kind of woman who appreciated hearing about cross-dressing sluts like me who live to suck cock and be feminine for their man.
I stayed on my knees, working overtime trying to scoop up all the cum he'd left on my face. All around my lips, as far as I could reach with my tongue. It was delicious. Salty, yummy, and tangy. Just the way I remembered it and just the way I loved it. My left hand was still on his thigh, my right hand still holding his glorious cock, softly massaging it as he came down from his orgasm.
So enrapt in what I was doing, I heard him let out a huge "whew"! which made me open my eyes and look up at him. There were beads of sweat on his forehead, and his chest was rising up and down with ferocity. He was almost hyper-ventilating, coming down from his tingly high.
Then his eyes opened up, looking straight down at me. Straight into my eyes, his stare like a laser beam to my soul. In that one instance I knew so much, he'd communicated so much to me through his eyes. He was proud, and grateful, and in love, and speeding on a sea of erotic lust for his cross-dressing lover, and blown away by the intensity of his own cumming, and desperately yearning for his next opportunity to cum in me again.
That much I knew right down to my core.
His cock, while softening somewhat after his peak, was now once again filling in my hand. Rising. Re-invigorating. Priming itself for the next trip to sexual Nirvana.
And it didn't have long to wait.
He reached down, grabbed me by the shoulders and lifted me up to my feet, my heels making the sexiest of `clacking' sounds, reverberating through the tiled foyer of his big house. When I was upright he wrapped his arms around me, and began kissing my face, scooping up big blobs of his own cum and then feeding them to me with his tongue in my mouth, his lips clamped to mine with all his passion and ardor. He cleaned my whole face, and a little bit that had slid down onto my neck, and shared them with me, both of us delighting and exhilarating in his cum, being lovingly and dutifully swallowed by yours truly.
A slut's responsibility, I reasoned.
And I take my responsibilities very seriously. At work, and at home.
But most especially in my feminine time. My gurl time. My slut time.
I take that very seriously. More seriously than anything.
More seriously than EVERYTHING.
Our kissing became torrid again, hot and steamy and roiling. His hands were caressing me, from ass to shoulders, and mine were wriggling through his hair and over the top of his balding head. I couldn't think of anything but being consumed by his kisses, my mind oblivious to the entire world, focussing only on loving him. And being swallowed by his love for me.
Standing there in a skirt and heels and wig and makeup, having just sucked a cock and swallowing cum, I thought for sure that I couldn't feel any more feminine, any more sexy and sexual, any more natural. But then he leaned down and scooped me up, one arm under my knees and one around my shoulders, and he carried me to the formal living room.
And just like that, my femininity, like my tingles, went soaring even higher. I could feel them coursing through me, radiating through me, blasting in all directions within me. My mind toyed briefly with wonderment. Could this tingle thing just keep getting better and better? Could my preconceptions of the limitations of my tingles be wrong? Are there ceilings? Were there new and heretofore unexplored levels of tingles that I still had in front of me to discover? Would there be a cap on my tingles? Is it possible that my journey of self-awareness that coincided with my tingles was now only in the first few steps of a life-long trek?
His clothes were strewn in the middle of the foyer, and he was naked. His lips never left mine, his tongue never backing down from owning my mouth, my lips, and my tongue. He was exactly what I wanted in my life, what I needed. He was my destiny. A loving, sexual, primal masculine man, making love to his feminine, giving, sensual and sexual slut.
Me.
He let me down on my feet as we were standing by the sofa. As soon as my heels touched the ground his hands began spinning me, turning my back to him. I looked at him over my shoulder, seeing in him the same intense need that I had. I knew what was next. I could see it in my mind and his eyes. He was going to fuck me, right here, bent over the arm of the sofa, my skirt puddled on the floor by my feet. By my heels.
I undid the button and then unzipped the skirt. Being high-waisted, I had to work it down over my hips, which made me feel soooooooo feminine. YUM YUM YUM! Then I heard it hit the floor. His hands made quick work of my panties, and I stood there, wearing sexy heels and thigh-high stockings and a cashmere sweater over my bra and my wig and makeup and jewelry, with my naked ass pointing straight at the man who was about to fuck me.
That much I knew. Innately.
He bent down, while physically moving me until I was actually up against one end of his sofa. One of his hands moved up my back, toying momentarily with my bra strap, before pushing on me, making me bend at the hips, directly over the high arm of the furniture. Bending like that made me shuffle my feet outward a little bit, for balance, which I knew instantly also helped in spreading my ass cheeks some. Opening me up. For his gaze. For his pleasure.
After a deep moan from him, I guess when he actually saw the end of my butt plug between my cheeks; he worked it out of me slowly and then immediately drove his tongue into my hole.
OH MY GOD!
A sudden and monumental shift in the tectonic plates of my tingles happened.
A new level of consciousness. A new universe. A new plateau of sensual attainment. It was like youd just read the most inspiring book youve ever read and then found out that you`d only read the first chapter. This was the next page, the next chapter. And yes, I could see that this book was hundreds if not thousands of chapters long, and I was going to get to experience all of them!
HOLY FUCKING WOW!!!!
Confirming for me that I had barely yet peeled the outside layer off my erotic life, the feeling of a man`s tongue loving my pussy was overwhelming. My own little cock was hard and erect, but without touching it at all I realized I was seeping out a continuous flow of cum. Not a raging river, just a gentle brook, a soft stream. But on-going, non-stop, eternal.
The greatest gift of all. Of myself, to myself, and only attained with the participation of others.
Brad ate my pussy for quite a while, his hands running up and down my stockinged legs, his tongue mostly in and around my opening but sometimes stuffed directly in me, inside my body, inside my soul. His tongue, tasting me. Consuming me.
Eating me alive!
When he decided that I was good and wet enough, he sprang to his feet like a pouncing lion. And with a moment to take his aim, he began his fucking of me.
He began to make love to his gurl.
His cockhead met my hole, slightly gaping at the this point, and very wet, and with barely a moment for me to appreciate the womanly joy of feeling her man`s cock about to take her, he took me.
One single solid motion. To the brim. To his length. To the base of him, the root of his cock. Inside me, in one go.
One moment I was empty, waiting for it, wanting it, my mind spinning with the joy of the anticipation. The phantasmal joy of knowing I was about to be fucked, taken by a man, taken as the feminine sexual creature I was born to be.
The next moment I was full of cock. Absolutely full. In a part of my body that is usually reserved for out-going things, here I was just mind-bogglingly stuffed full of a mans cock. A cock. I dont know how many pounds it actually weighed, but it felt like a ton fully seated inside me. Touching parts of me he was the first to touch, holy sacred parts of me. His thick meaty penis, as hard as hes ever been, as hot and horny as hes ever been. A mans cock. Seven days ago I would have laughed at the idea of taking another mans turgid fuck stick in my ass.
Now, there wasn`t one single thing in the entire universe that I wanted more. Needed more. To fulfill my own pleasure. To fulfill my own desire.
To be me.
Brad fucked me for a good fifteen minutes at least, with a determination and a ferocity that was everything a gurl like me could ever hope for. Solid, steady, metronomic. The room was filled with the sounds of us. The constant almost militaristic banging of his body into mine, that constant slap of skin on skin, bone on bone, hard cock into squishy pussy, my breathe leaving me in little gasps every time he bottomed out in me. In my pussy. In my soul.
He banged me good. I was in heaven, on cloud nine. My eyes were rolled up in my head, which was half on a throw pillow and half on the main cushion of the sofa, bent over as I was, my legs spread wide and solid, my back arched, my pussy up and exposed to him, giving him every part of me, holding nothing back, allowing him his complete freedom to do what nature meant for him to do: to be the alpha male, taking his alpha male pleasures with his beta gurl.
Fucking me.
Just like last weekend, Brad pounded me while muttering some of the most deliciously-sexy things a gurl like me wants to hear. It was all stream-of-consciousness stuff, and some of it was just plainly unintelligible, just groans disguised as vowels, but some of it was the most erotic things ever. Take my cock and I love this pussy! and I`m gonna fuck my slut were just some of them. And they all warmed my heart. And I was doing a lot of talking as well, but most of my words were the same repeated mantra: fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me.
My ass was taking a pounding, and I reached my hands back and squeezed them between us to spread my cheeks open for him even more. Giving myself to him even more. Begging him, more or less, to get more of him into me. To push more of him into me. Because the more he was inside me, the more sensations I felt.
Inside me. His flesh, inside my body. Inside me. Up until last Saturday night, in this very house, I never would have conceived of the idea of allowing myself to experience it, yet alone discover that it provided me with more joy than anything else on the planet. To be dressed in the sexiest feminine attire, while a man used me for his pleasure, giving me more pleasure than Id ever imagined possible. Id never known what it would feel like to have his flesh inside me, reshaping my insides with every thrust. Parts of my body not necessarily intended by nature to be reshaped that way, and yet, each and every second the physical and emotional sensations I received, which were enormous, paled every other sensation I`d ever felt, in my entire life.
Id been brought up to believe that I was a heterosexual man, and that meant sticking my dick into vaginas. Id done it. I`d been there. And while doing it, I had always thought that it was great, and that this must be what pleasure was.
I had been so wrong. Whatever pleasure I`d felt fucking women were but a few drops of water in what I now knew to be an ocean of joy. This moment in my life, I realized, dressed as a sexy slut, being passionately fucked by a man, his cock barrelling in and out of my asspussy, this was what pleasure was all about.
This was me. This was my true place in the world.
Being a gurl. And being fucked.
His pace began to quicken, and he took his hands off my hips and grabbed my arms, just above each elbow. That way he could pull on me a little, bringing my pussy to him over and over again as he slammed his cock into me. As he fucked me. And his pace increased, again, and again. His words were now just grunts, as were mine. He was pulling me into him as he thrust, jerking me back to him by the shoulders, my head bouncing and flopping around me like a rag dolls.
All of a sudden, like I was being electrocuted, my body shook from the inside out, every fibre in me tingling into overload, and I was cascaded with the brightest light I`d ever seen, inside my head. It was like staring into the sun!
Then I had the biggest orgasm I`ve ever known. I just came, with no build-up. No gentle persuasive hint that it was approaching. No signs or symbols or moments of awareness. No bells or claxons or horns or notifications of any kind. Just bam. Like walking head-first into a door, but not feeling the pain.
All I felt was bliss. Mind-numbing, skin-tingling, teeth-rattling sensory-overload bliss.
I was gone.
There was nothing around me. Nothing. My mind and soul were all-encompassing. There was no planet around me, no people. The Pope could have been right beside me, smoking a big fat doobie and giving a hand-job to Elvis and I wouldn`t have noticed them. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse could have been riding up on their stallions, ready to lay waste to humanity, and I would never have known.
But I did have enough awareness to recognize that Brad gave me about a minute or two more of just primal animalistic fucking, slamming his cock into me again and again and again, giving me all of his masculine power and passion with each thrust, filling me over and over with his rutting, over and over and over and over.
And then one huge thrust, one insanely-voiced growl from deep within him, and I felt him cumming in me. Giving me his seed. Breeding me. Taking the ultimate pleasure a man can take. He`d fucked his gurl, with everything he had, and awarded her with that most glorious of treasures.
A pussy full of his cum.
Wow.
Somehow, hed maintained enough wherewithal to guide both of us gently down to the floor, his cock still embedded in me. He wrapped me in his arms, and we both began the sweetest most sublime journeys of coming down` from the highest of sensual highs.
And I was again struck by the majesty of the moment for me.
And by me, I meant Jessica.
She was the most alive shed ever been, lying there on the floor, wrapped in a naked mans arms, his cock buried deep in her asspussy, his cum inside her, slowly trying to escape, her breathing now slowly calming down, like his. The slow sensuous recovery from being fucked like a woman.
Jessica was a woman!
A while later, Brad had prepared some appetizers and drinks for us, which we ate in the sunken family room. I`d cleaned up in the master bathroom upstairs, and redone my makeup. Especially my lipstick and gloss. Kissing that man was so very non-stop for me, and I wanted to do some more of that before the evening was through!
Brad was wearing a terry cloth robe. He kissed me softly and led me to some pillows hed laid out in front of the roaring fire hed built. We both sat down, his arm around my shoulder, and we relaxed in the post-coital glow.
He lit a joint and we both took a few tokes. It was a glorious way to smooth out and chill.
He raised a glass to me and said `Cheers!' and I returned his toast.
To many more nights like this! he added.
`Ooooh I like that idea!' I laughed.
Then we chatted, while we ate. He couldn`t stop talking about how exciting this all was for him, how incredibly sexy I was, how discovering his full sexuality with me had been a real eye-opener and a life-changer for him. How it had made his life complete. And his marriage.
I talked about how it had all changed for me, from the moment I first felt the tingles with him, by the pool, to having Carol`s panties in my hand when he came into the bedroom. I left nothing out. My passions, ignited. My existence, realized. My soul, liberated.
I told him about Victor. I told him about Cynthia. I told him about Peter. Initially I hesitated in naming him, since the two of them worked together. But then I remembered that Peter had told me to be my true self. And my true self would be open and honest and proud, and therefore I would hold nothing back, physically or spiritually. If he was offended by my newfound sexuality (perhaps to some better described as promiscuity) he showed no signs of it at all. Quite the opposite. He was delighted with every detail I told him. Of everything. And it wasn`t just voyeurism on his part. His awakening was able to appreciate my awakening on a seriously profound level. I could see it in his eyes.
He asked me if I was taking any of Jessica`s clothes on the up-coming trip. I said of course! Duh!
He laughed. He explained he wouldnt be joining the National team meetings until Tuesday. Prior commitments of something or other. Hed fly in late Monday night.
Then he smiled at me, and had a twinkle in his eye.
``But Ill be thinking of you, on your date with Peter.
I smiled too. I felt something supremely exciting in the bathroom with Peter the other day, and my soul was quivering with anticipation at what might transpire on my first night with him.
But I didn`t dwell on that too much.
There was, after all, a very sexy man holding me right now. A sexy man who I had already sucked off tonight, and who had blessed me with a tummy and face full of cum! And then he`d made love to me. Fucked me. Just the way I like it.
And then we were kissing again, softly and romantically and then a little more passionately and then a lot more passionately and then I broke it off and said we should clean up a little so Carol didn`t have to when she got home and we each got up and brought dishes and things back to the kitchen, which has a huge marble-topped island in the middle, which is where at one point I found myself, leaning over forward, the marble cool on my skin, wearing just my bra and thigh-high stockings, my wig and sweater and skirt and heels almost ripped off me moments before by a very brazen and horny man, and Brad was once again fucking me.
And the pattern couldn`t have been more clearer.
Brad really really really liked to fuck me from behind.
And I have to confess, I like his enthusiasm and could never ever discourage his desires.
Holding onto my hips again, he was just out-and-out fucking me. Rutting me. Hed mounted me after lubing us up with something (my mind raced for a few seconds as to what and then I just didnt care) and was leveraging his rock-hard cock into me like a pile-driver by pulling my hips towards him with every stroke.
So I was in sissy CD slut heaven again. Oblivious to almost everything again. But at one point, after I don`t know how long but a long time of being fucked to the max, I realized I did know three things. One: I was dribbling out my river of cum onto the side of the kitchen island. Two: I was screaming out the words FUCK and ME over and over again, and Three: as Brad roared a bone-chilling scream into the ether and filled me with his cum again I happened to open one eye and look over towards the foyer for some unknown reason, and there was Carol, leaning against the closed inside of the front door, her skirt gathered up above her waist with one hand, wearing no panties, her other hand busy between her legs, several fingers inside her own pussy.
Afterwards she told me she`d never seen anything sexier.
I told her the same thing.
My ride home was wonderful. I was luxuriating in the afterglow of some great loving, some absolutely paradigm-busting great sex. Id fixed my make up, yet again, before Id left their house. She kissed me goodbye, and I tasted pussy on her lips, which was probably Hazels, and then he kissed me goodbye, and I transferred some of Hazels cum to his tongue.
Squaring the circle, so to speak.
My tingles had taken me to yet another new sensual level tonight, and sleep came easy to me. Tomorrow was Saturday, and I had some errands to run, and then Sunday was flight day for my first trip with the National Team.
And a date with Peter.
I love my tingles!
The End.