Ron Taylor - Stepdaughter in bondage

Her finger toyed with the hole, then slipped inside, just enough to let me know she was there. Her mouth curled into a sweet smile, the sweetest smile imaginable. It made Mona Lisa look like a two-dollar whore giving the come on to a horny sailor. The tip of her finger rested inside my crack, not moving, simply letting me know it enjoyed being in my warm wetness, Lara tilted her head and kissed me on the mouth again, pressing her lips against mine, and I don't think I really needed to ask what she was doing. I think I knew.

It was something I'd never done before. I mean, I knew that things like this went on. Two lovely women locked in a nude embrace, their red lips touching and clinging. Hands exploring the contours of firm, stiff-tipped breasts, or of smooth, curvy asses. But I'd never been in the least bit curious about trying it, myself.

It was not like a man's touch at all. At least, it wasn't when Lara touched me. A guy would have been jabbing his finger up my cunt, trying to get his whole hand inside my pussy. And she just stood there, looking at me with a calm expression on her face, and the red-painted tip of her finger was nestled inside my twat, the nail not even jiggling or scratching at the lining of my pussy mouth.

And I could feel liquid fire starting to boil in my belly, could feel moisture flowing down my tube, wetting the end of her finger. Already the sexy smell of aroused pussy was stronger in my nostrils than the herbal garden shampoo she'd used to wash my hair. I should have guessed when she touched me, when she massaged me so gently and delicately. I should have known this was the obvious next step!

But would I have told her to knock it off, even if I had known? I didn't know, not with her finger in my pussy, my nipples hardening under the calm stare of her eyes. They were brown eyes, soft, liquid, loving. They lifted, from my tits to my face, and I felt myself sinking into those brown pools. Lara gave her finger the tiniest, teeniest wiggle, and I became a piece of jello in her arms.

"It's nicer in the bedroom, Rebecca," she said, and I could just nod, sobbing but not crying.

"T-take me to the b-b-bedroom, then." I said.

She undressed by the bed, where I already lay stretched out. My skin was warm from the bath and pink-glowing where she'd rubbed me dry with the towel. I couldn't take my eyes off her, not even to examine the bedroom, which was truly delicious. The colors were soft and deep. The carpeting on the floor was a foot deep and the bed was an antique four-poster with a canopy top. Satin bedclothes surmounted it, waiting only for Lara's hand to turn down the sheets. The lighting in the room was indirect and cast delightful shadows on Lara's body as she undressed herself for me. I stopped looking at the furnishings the moment she unzipped her slacks and I didn't take my eyes off her till she was lying beside me.

She let her pants drop. Under them she wore the strangest-looking panties I'd ever seen. Silk, and sheer black, with a lacy trimming, and nothing in the crotch except a protruding patch of deep auburn fur. I wanted to touch her panties, to see how real silk felt, but even more I found myself gulping because I knew I also wanted to touch that muff of red hair, to work my fingers in it to feel and caress what was lurking inside it. The hem of Lara's sweater began to rise and, my eyes followed it.

She was tantalizingly slow in exposing her breasts. I knew she had been wearing a bra when she took me upstairs. The sweater fit her rather snugly around the back and I'd noticed the line of her undergarment. When had she taken it off? While I was getting my bath ready? Had she come into the bathroom prepared to seduce me?

Anyway, her tits were bare under the sweater, which I already knew because I'd felt her nipples stiff and perky against my skin while we were kissing in the bathroom. But the sight of them was delight to the eyes and a temptation to the lips and fingers.

Her breasts were small and high-set on her chest. Shaped sorta like champagne glasses, or rather, the insides of champagne glasses. Tapering to points, capped in the tiniest little brown-red nipples I had ever seen, no bigger around than dimes. But the tips extended a long way, and the tips were stiff with passion, and I rubbed my thumb against my index finger, wishing that stiff red nipple was caught between my thumb and finger right now.

She threw her sweater aside, something I'd never have done with a garment as obviously expensive as that sweater, and she sidled onto the bed. One leg stretched across the mattress, the other rested on the floor. I sat up and looked down into her lap. The puff of hair was really sticking out of her crotchless panties and I wanted to touch it so badly.

"Go ahead," Lara invited.

My hand dove into her pubes and the hair on her pussy was fine as spun silk. I touched it with wonder simmering in my heart, and my fingers pressed in, till they tapped the line of her slice. She had a small, tight-feeling gash, and the inner lips didn't stick out at all, which I'd have expected in an older woman like Lara. But I didn't care. It was much nicer to touch her smooth even crease, I suspected, than it would be to feel a cunt whose labia hung down to the knees. It was a soft, moist pussy, and I had only to touch it with a little insistence, for the lips to part and suck me into Lara.

I kept pushing, expecting to feel something, but I couldn't. She reached down, covered my hand, guided me. My finger plunged deeply, suddenly, into her damp snatch, and the muscles of her cunt began to suck at me, contracting in little tremors as I worked myself inside Lara. She closed her eyes, let her head slide back, resting against my shoulder, and she worked my hand fiercely.

"There – there – there!" she moaned, and her pussy erupted around my finger. It must have been a very nice come because she shivered against me for almost a minute and her pussy snapped and rippled along the inserted length of my finger. Wetness oozed from her, and it smelled like honey. I sniffed, appreciating the musky sweet scent, and my arm slipped around Lara.

She turned her head and we kissed and I knew she was thanking me. For what? I'd just wiggled my finger inside her cunt. She'd done all the work. My body started to get cold and I felt awkward and strange and a little silly, sitting here on this plush bed naked, with my finger up the cunt of a woman I'd just met about forty-five minutes ago on the highway.

"Uh," I said, working my finger fret, "Maybe I oughta be…"

Lara shook her head. She put her hands on my shoulders, eased me down onto the bed. I stretched out reluctantly and she started to kiss me passionately on the mouth and nipples, on my stomach and in my armpits. Her tongue glided across my skin and it tickled, but I didn't feel any other response.

"Is something wrong?" Lara asked, raising her head from my tits. "You feel cold." She put her fingers against my cheek. "You feel very cold."

"I'm sorry," I told her. "It's not you. It's me. I'm a pervert of some kind. Maybe I'd better be going. Look, I won't bather you by borrowing any clothes. I'll just put mine back on and get it onto the wad. I really have to be on my way, anyhow. I…" I stopped, for I'd almost said something I shouldn't have.

Lam sat up. So did I. She slipped her arm round my shoulder and put our foreheads together. She was really beautiful – clean, economically chiseled facial features, high cheekbones, that particular kind of hollow-cheeked look you see on the covers of fashion magazines. Her lips were red and glossy, her eyes a sympathetic brown, and her nostrils twitched a little as she looked me eye to eye.

"It isn't you," I repeated. "I told you. It's me. I – well, I sorta turn off, you know? I don't feel anything once it gets started. I just get cold and – it embarrasses me talking about this, and if you don't mind, I'd rather not…"