Carl Van Marcus - The tempted bride

"Aaagghh. No, oh, God, no!"

The man heard her terrified yelp and knew now that he must not stop until she was so aroused she could not help herself. It was now or never. She wouldn't let him near her in the future if he stopped now, but if he continued and she liked it? Who could tell. So thinking, he tightened his arms wrapped about her thighs and buried his rapacious tongue even deeper into the quivering, heated pussy lips between her open legs.

Fear and repugnance were battling each other for supremacy in Grace's mind. Instead of a sweet dream, this was some nightmare too horrible to comprehend. And still, though, the earlier pleasure of that dream was not to be denied. Her nerve endings down there were being serenaded by that velvet tongue that licked, sucked, and caressed all at the same time. It was hateful, outrageous, horrible… beautiful.

"No… no," she whimpered, flinging her arm up against her forehead and clenching her eyes shut as if this would make everything go away, "Stop! Oh God… Please stop!"

It was only then that the man looked up and she gasped as she saw the familiar face. "Jim," she cried. "Don't! Please stop. Let me up… please."

His own reply was, without taking his eyes from her face – a hard tongue thrust against her clitoris.

"Oh, Jim," she squealed. "Please don't. You can't do that! It's a horrible thing!"

His tongue traced a zig-zag pattern down through her pubic curls from clitoris to anus again, then came back and speared into the seeping hole of her tiny, tightly clenched cuntal opening. Seven – eight times in rapid succession he flicked his tongue in and out between inner and outer lips of her pussy, tongue-fucking her in earnest now.

Grace began moaning piteously as she felt powerful sensations overriding all other emotions and body functions. "Oh, Jim… Jim! Pluuuu-eeez! My husband has never even done that to me. Jim? JIM!" The last was a shout as his teeth clamped the sensitive almond bud of her clitoris and began nibbling gently. "Oh, God!" she gasped, then fell back against the couch, weakened by the intense feeling and sudden uncontrollable hunger down between her helplessly trembling legs. She made one last protest, "Don't. My husband! That's dirty… perverted."

Jim looked up, his face shining with his own saliva and her excitedly flowing cuntal juices. "Stop fighting it, Grace. You know and I know that you're enjoying what I'm doing to your wonderful pussy."

"Please… don't talk like that to me," she moaned. "I'm married and I love my husband."

"So?" He lowered his chin and ran his hot hard tongue along one side of her outer layer of vulva, watching her as he did so. Her face grimaced, not in disgust, but in what was obviously a fight for self-control.

She was his now. His to do what he wanted to. She might think she was still capable of fighting, but her pussy was in command of her body now, and it was going to betray her for thirty silvery licks.

Satisfied, he let his eyes feast hungrily on the now fully blossomed lips which had grown in size and colour since he began his ministrations. There was life in those lips, and no masterpiece in any museum could ever compare with the picture before him – framed so delicately with incredibly soft, raven black pubic curls. One single drop of her seeping pussy juice clung like a small translucent pearl to the little curls of black hair. The entire cuntal area looked like the corolla of some ruby-coloured flower and, in the middle where the stamen ordinarily would be, there was the sacred little opening to her womb. Even as he watched, it puckered and unpuckered in sensual excitement, looking like the mouth of a feeding fish.

"Look down at me, Grace," he commanded, and there was something in his voice that made her lift her head. She watched petrified and stiff, as he placed his thumbs on her vaginal opening and peeled her softly yielding pussy lips apart as though it were sections of some succulent tropical fruit being separated; the soft curls of her pubic hairs gave way, exposing the flaming beauty of her vertical little cuntal mouth to his lust dimmed gaze. She moaned in shame as he breathed against the sensitive lips; the expelled hot air from his throat grazed raw nerves down there and her entire body reacted as she heard his accompanying lewd, lascivious statement, "I'm going to eat your pussy, Grace. I'm going to tongue-fuck you and, if you're telling the truth about no one ever having done this for you, then you're in for a beautiful surprise."

She saw his face drop… and his tongue come out to wetly probe her guilt-quivering vagina. That was the last thing she saw. With this hot, wet contact between tongue and cunt, she simply was forced to let everything go. Her body responded automatically, jerking convulsively, as she ground her hips into the leather couch in an effort to escape his long worming tongue that wiggled like a sidewinder up one side of her cunt and down the other. A groan bubbled out of her throat, "Ohhhh… my God! Jim… please… don't…" The rapacious licking continued in and upon her defenseless vagina and she felt her stomach muscles rippling like wind on the water. She began wailing in animal-like passion as his tongue scoured her inner thighs and made one hot swipe around her clitoris before snaking rapier-like in and out of her now completely helplessly cringing pussy. "Oh. Oh… Jim, dear God… stop… please."

Jim shook his head negatively and raced his tongue faster up the dilated hole between her open thighs. He used his nose to tease against the hotly throbbing little clitoris repeatedly and each nudge brought a low gasp from the helplessly immured girl.

She raised her head up to look down over her breasts and this time her mind was clear enough to see everything. She saw his bobbing head framed between her sleek widespread nylon-clad knees. Her black and yellow floral printed dress was bunched up above her hips and she could even see tiny red lace roses on the black lacey garter belt holding up her sheer hosiery. Black against white on her thighs, Jim's grayish brown hair and tanned face bobbing up and down against the black of her naked pubic hair!

She watched his assault with a feeling of horror, her mind in a maelstrom of repulsion, shame, and unwanted desire. Above all, was a realization that burned with a napalm intensity in her tortured mind: This is no dream… this is really happening to me. Oh, God! Dear Stan… I love you… forgive me… forgive… me… for… The unwanted jolts of forbidden pleasure and little zephyrs of pure wantonness vilely pervaded her entire being now as Jim's powerful hands released her thighs and slipped under her buttocks, cupping and squeezing the soft, yet firm warm flesh of the hotly trembling cheeks. His tongue and mouth continued to grind further and further into the valley of her squirming defenseless cunt. Without volition, she dug her shoulders into the couch, sucked in her stomach muscles and raised her pelvis, making Jim's head bury itself even deeper. Debased sucking and slurping sounds of his labours echoed throughout the study. His hands pulled apart the crevice between her buttocks, and then one adventuresome finger began exploring the opening to her tiny puckered little rectum. The feel of that finger there caused Grace to clench her eyes tightly shut and ball her hands into fists.

Now she thought of Stan and the one or two times he had tried to make love to her this way, and the coldness of her refusal – especially that night on the banks of the Spence. Why hadn't she suspected this bliss her body was capable of. After all, she had always liked to be fondled and caressed, loved the touch of Stan's mouth on her breasts and neck and shoulder. It was only the sex act itself that was so abhorrent. If only she had permitted Stan to do this to her. If only she had known the exquisite pleasure in store for her!