Ron Taylor - Naughty aunt Susan

My legs were thrown far apart and Belinda used her tongue and fingers on them, too, abandoning my steamy hole long enough for a bit of extracurricular stimulation. She'd be leaving teeth marks on my thighs, hickeys, too, and I'd wear them like a soldier wean his medals. If she'd only move closer, let me get my head between her legs instead of just my hand, I would give her the equivalent of a silver star for her very own.

I went into double-time with the finger and thumb I had stuffed into her, reaming her twin holes at the same time and with ferocious energy. The juices of her snatch soaked my hand. I could smell them drifting across the bed towards my nose. I'd had enough of touching them and smelling them. Now I wanted to suck up her moisture, to revel in it with my lips and tongue.

She understood. She didn't let up her oral attack on me for the fraction of a second, but she began to slide her butt towards my face, and my hands, seizing the smooth columns of her thighs and the proud curves of her ass, did the rest.

I wasn't plugging her with thumb and finger now. There was no need of it. I steered her groin and slipped one of her legs over me, and then her pussy came to rest upon my face. She was so smooth, so moist, so tingly warm – I licked her bulge with my racing tongue, scarcely taking time to pay special attention to her glistening cunt-lips.

Belinda squirmed when she felt my lingual caress, and she settled down upon me firmly. The slit in her shaven cunt-mound was pressing upon my mouth, so I jabbed my tongue inside and tickled everything I could find.

That included her clitoris, which, I've already told you, was slightly oversized. It had trembled passionately when my thumb played with its nubby projection, and I had thought that too darling for words. Now my tongue was upon it, wiggling it around and around, and I could taste the dewy juice in which Belinda's trigger was bathed. The flavor lingered on my taste buds, thrilling me beyond belief, and I spread her delicate slice so that I could use my lips on her button. I wanted to suckle it, to nurse it like a nipple, and I did.

She sighed into my cunt, still licking and sucking, and I whispered her name gently. The half-spoken word seemed to echo and reverberate inside her parted gash. Belinda squirmed, causing her bottom to jiggle back and forth across my face, and she was leaking more fluidly than before. The little rushes of her cream drained into my open mouth and my head went dizzy with joy.

"Say something else," Belinda implored, and as soon as she did, I knew why. Her lips were pressed into my own snatch and they fluttered teasingly upon my labes. A humming vibration ricocheted up and down my spread cunt. My cunt seemed to balloon enormously from the power of the echo, and I could feel my private juice flowing as copiously into Belinda's mouth as hers seeped into mine.

"I love you," I said, hoping that she appreciated the words as well as their effect. And then it didn't seem important at all. I didn't want to talk. I wanted to eat her cunt, and I prayed that she would concentrate on eating mine.

She did! And she was good, so good! Lilly had been my only female lover, and I had thought her perfect at what she did, but Belinda's natural talent was stunning. Or maybe it was a cultivated accomplishment. I didn't know or care. I just wanted her to do it to me!

I followed where she led, retaliating on her cunt as soon as my whirling mind understood what clever tactic she was practicing upon me. When she took my cunt between two fingertips and plied it forcefully, I did the same to her. One of my fingers lost its footing in her slippery slice and I found it irresistibly diving up the channel of her cunt. I couldn't prevent it – I could only thrust it savagely and jiggle it with affection.

Belinda's jerking cunt massaged my finger with manifold intriguing variations, and I didn't really have to do anything. Her cunt was churning and performing, and my only role was to provide it with stuffing. Her snatch pulled mein and spat me out, only to draw me inside her once again. It was a mechanical process, in a way, but there was really nothing mechanical about her sweet, tantalizing pussy, a being of flesh and blood and human sensation. I began to lick the lips of her gash, admiring for the millionth time the shaven smoothness that I found. She cared for herself, it was apparent. There was no stubble – she must shave every day – and I could taste the faintest lingering trace of sweet talcy powder on her flesh, though the seeping wetness of her cunt was a delicious, overwhelming fragrance on my mouth.

That was about the time Belinda decided to go for broke with me. She caught my throbbing trigger between her lips and jerked it savagely, passionately, fantastically – at the same instant plunging all the fingers of one hand into my tight, raw hole. I screamed when I realized what she was doing, but I didn't stop fingering and licking, and I couldn't repress a moan of gurgling ecstasy when I felt my bloody cunt expanding to give her fingers access. She kept mouthing my clitoris, rolling it on her red lips, and her hand assailed my pussy. Almost before I knew it she had inserted her entire hand, right up to her wrist, and my cunny was getting the fucking of its life!

I had heard about fist-fucking but no one had ever done it to me. Not until now. Belinda seemed to enjoy it, to take a special delight in wriggling her hand as she used it like an enormous prick inside my hole, and I was learning to love the trick myself.

I wondered how far she intended to carry this, but the matter quickly became unimportant. My body turned into creamy pudding before I could stop it, and I couldn't keep licking Belinda's snatch. The only thing I could do was scream. By that time she was moving for an elbow-deep insertion of her screwing arm and only the ecstatic set of contractions that volcanoed through my pussy prevented her from doing it.

That, and the onrush of her own climax. I felt her pussy snap like a vise on the finger with which I pronged her, and a flood of girlish jism drenched my face. It was in my eyes, in my nose, in my mouth, and I sucked it through my screams and moans. Belinda squashed her creaming snatch down upon me and I breathed in its wonderful aromatic sensuality, wishing I could live out my life with my head between her legs.

We lay on the bed later, kissing and petting just the way Lilly and I always did after sex. Belinda's face was smeared with my cum and menstrual flow, but I didn't even think about that when our lips came together. I wanted her tongue inside my mouth and more inside hers, and we shared little dueling stabs back and forth till the madness wore off and we were able to relax.

"How long have you been gay?" I asked her, my hand cupping her ripe left tit. She was stroking my tummy, and I could see the mess my cursed cunt had left on the sheets, but she didn't seem to mind.

"I'm not," she said. "At least, not in the way you seem to mean. Why, are you?"

I nodded, and I told her the facts about me – how I'd been so breathtakingly promiscuous until I saw how dumb it was. Guys didn't mean anything to me any more. Either they were dull and interchangeable, like most of the boys I'd balled, or they were crude and grabby, like Alan today. In fact, his insistence upon getting a piece of tail in return for showing me part of the campus was the straw that broke the camel's back, as far as I was concerned.

"Girls are different," I went on. "Like you. You knew I was on the rag, for God's sakes, and it didn't matter. You wanted me, and I wanted you, and we made it. I never heard you complain. Guys don't even like to touch me that time of the month."

"They don't know what they're missing, either," she agreed. "When I have my period, I become a slutty animal. All women do. They've been conditioned not to want sex then, because it's messy, but their pussies don't know that, and their pussies get hungry."