Madame B - Seduction

Gratefully, I spread my legs and let him penetrate me.

"Oh, God," sighed Rick as his big, hard dick slid into my yearning pussy, a broad, sturdy hard-on that was as big as I could handle, and then, as he shifted his body weight onto me, a little bigger still.

"Oh, God," he mumbled. "It's so soft and warm in here. I never knew a cunt could feel like this."

I hooked my ankles around his ass, pulling him deeper and deeper into me. Beside us, Sam knelt with his dick in his hand, stroking it, concentrating on the tip, where a fat drop of pre-cum glistened in the moonlight. His eyes devoured my tits and Rick's ass. You could tell it was the hottest thing he'd seen in a long time. Rick's kisses and his cock inside me were doing the job, and I knew that all it would take for me to come harder than I ever had before would be the tiniest pressure on my clit.

Sam tapped Rick on the shoulder, and as if by prior agreement, Rick pulled out of me. After gazing at my swollen pink pussy for the time it took him to put on a condom, Sam was suddenly inside me, his dick rocking backward and forward, his pubic bone grinding deliciously into my yearning, frustrated clitoris. My whole pussy began to flutter like a butterfly, always a sign I was mere seconds away from orgasm. And, I could tell by the look on his face, so was he. He arched his back and closed his eyes, preparing to surrender to his climax. As he did so, Rick straddled me, removed the condom and stuck his naked cock in Sam's mouth. Sam sucked greedily on Rick's big erection, the noise of his lips on his lover's dick obscured by the crash of the waves.

Rick came first. I saw his balls twitch and rise up into his body and his butt cheeks tense as his orgasm took hold. He made an incredibly intimate noise, a long, guttural growl, as a dribble of spunk from his cock splashed out of Sam's mouth and onto my tits. Sam began to massage the warm, white liquid into my skin, teasing my breasts for the last time, and then finally he placed one forefinger against my clitoris, drew back his hips and then pounded, hard. I let myself go. My whole body shook, my clitoris hummed, letting the waves of pleasure wash over me again and again and again and again. As my pussy contracted and squeezed around Sam's dick, he, too, tripped over into an intense climax, his beautiful fair features going blank while he abandoned himself to the sheer pleasure of it all.

The three of us lay entangled, breathless and elated, watching the first pink rays of dawn rise over the water. We didn't move even when the cold tide came and washed our bodies clean. Instead, we clung to each other for warmth.

"So," I said. "Have I turned you?"

"I never thought I'd do that with you," said Rick. "But I'm so glad that I read those magazines!"

"I think we can save this for a weekend treat," said Sam. "Will you come again?"

"Oh," I said. "I'll come again. And I'll come and come and come!"

We've often been told "Look, don't touch." But what happens when that turns to "Touch, don't look?" A sensory sexual experience you'll never forget… Girls who look like me don't often get to fuck boys who look like Jamie. He's the kind of man who walks down the street in old clothes with unwashed hair and has women falling at his feet. The first time I saw him, it was like a slap in the face. Actually, to be accurate, it was more like a slap in the pussy, because I felt my stomach lurch and then all the blood in my body rushed to my pelvis. I saw him in a bar and had to talk to him; I walked right over and asked him if he was a model. Of course, he was. Up close he was even more beautiful than from a distance. Wavy jet-black hair, olive skin and green eyes, a fine aquiline nose, and a lean, athletic body to die for. He's nineteen, half-Indian/half-Irish, and absolutely perfect as far as I'm concerned. Since I met Jamie, I always want to do it with the lights on.

And then there's me. Seven years older than him, about a hundred grand a year richer, and yes, my IQ is probably a little higher than my beautiful boy's. He is as entranced by my conversation as I am by his body. The first time I took him to bed, he showed himself to be a tender and eager, if a little inexperienced, lover. He is certainly no longer inexperienced. I've taught that boy every trick and technique in the book, and he's been a very eager pupil.

There's only one real problem with Jamie, and that's the way he worries that I only love him for his looks. He thinks he's just a trophy boyfriend, a hot young stud on my arm. I tell him that's not true; it's as much to do with his big, thick dick and his firm pink tongue as with those razor-sharp cheekbones or his taut six-pack.

"I've had people judge me on my looks my whole life," he said. "I want you to love me for myself as well as my body."

Of course I tried to reassure Jamie that my feelings for him were not just skin-deep. But on a certain level, I was a bit worried that it was true. I was more aroused by watching him than by touching him. I once read that women aren't aroused by visual images, that we need the whole package: romance, candles, hours of sensual massage. Whoever wrote that bullshit had obviously never seen Jamie naked with a hard-on jutting out from between his lean, rippled thighs.

But one night, Jamie decided to test me. The pupil became the teacher for the night, and it was one I'll never forget. It was late November, and it was cold outside. I'd lit a fire in the fireplace, partly to create a sensual atmosphere and partly to encourage Jamie to take off his clothes. I'd just bought a new leather sofa, and I wanted to fuck him on it, to have his light brown skin sticking to the smooth leather, his body bathed in the glow of the firelight. I'd been picturing the scene in my head for days, and it had me horny as hell.

Right on time at eight p.m., Jamie, carrying a dark blue paper bag in one hand and a bottle of Moet in the other, knocked on the door.

"This is for you, darling," he said, kissing me on the cheek and handing me the cold champagne. "And so is this," he continued, with a mischievous smile, waving the bag under my nose. "But I'll save it for later." He had an expression on his face that I couldn't quite read.

Intrigued, I helped him out of his coat, underneath which he was wearing shapeless, baggy jeans and an old sweater. As he disappeared into the kitchen to pour the champagne, I chucked another log on the fire, hoping he'd remove a layer or two of clothing.

We drank our wine and spent some time indulging in lazy kisses on the sofa. Every now and then, I'd stop just to gaze at his gorgeous face. Jamie unfastened the buttons of my coatdress one by one and rolled my thigh-high stockings down the length of my leg before pulling them off, lavishing slow, sensual kisses on my body as he went. Ever the tease, he kept his own clothes firmly on. My skin began to tingle in anticipation of him taking off those layers. My first glimpse of Jamie's flesh was always thrilling. The sight of his torso, his stomach, his ass, always marked the moment between arousal and desperation, triggering a need to have him there and then. He knew this, of course: The longer he waited before getting naked, the wetter I would finally be when he did.

Lovingly, he unhooked my bra and then slid the straps over my shoulders, pulling the cups down to reveal my breasts. He took a nipple between his soft lips, rolled up his tongue, and used it to flick my nipple gently before sucking. Then he bit my panties and pulled them off my hips and down over my legs with his teeth, licking and nipping my skin with his tongue and teeth all the way down. It was delicious. If only he'd undress, it would be perfect. Maybe he wants me to beg, I thought. And I wasn't too proud to do that.

"Baby," I purred, writhing on my leather couch, sticking my tits out and spreading my legs, "let me see you. Please. You know how turned on I get when I can see you."