Ron Taylor - Stepdaughter in bondage

Lara pulled back and I was the one reluctant to let go, it appeared. My head lifted in pursuit of her face, lips smacking wetly, but she moved back further than I could reach, tied down as I was.

"You're making me do this," I said. "I don't want to, but you're making me. Please untie me. I don't know what's happening."

"It's all part of the game, isn't it, darling?" Lara said. She stroked my forehead, brushed back a few strands of long hair that had fallen into my eyes. There was a musky aroused smell clinging to her body, fogging around it like a mitt, nearly as strong as the hot pussy scent coming from between my own legs. Her breasts moved fitfully as she breathed, and the nipples seemed to wobble before my eyes. They were still long and erect, redder than before, if that was possible. I reached my free hand up, toward those breasts, but Lara moved out of my way with a laugh.

"It won't be that easy," she said, "not if you like to play games. You'll have to work and fight to get what you want."

She picked up the glass of wine she'd poured for me. It was still full. I hadn't had time to do more than lap at it before she threw her wine in my face and tied me to the bed. She knelt beside me holding the crystal glass, and then she moved. One leg slipped over my body, and I was looking up into the fat puff of reddish hair exposed by her crotchless panties. Amid the hairs I could see, very clear, very distinct, the deep cleft of her pussy, the little beads of moisture that clung to the hairs immediately surrounding Lara's slit. She was turned on, too, and that made me feel very, very good.

"Your turn now," she said, and she plopped her twat down upon my face. Hair and musk filled my mouth and nose and I couldn't breathe. Lara pound herself down hard, wiggling her snatch across my mouth, and I gasped and choked and coughed. "Eat it," she said. "Eat it the way I ate you. You know how, don't you, Rebecca?"

"N-n-noooooo," I moaned, twisting my head to the side so I could speak. "I don't know how."

"Do whatever you think would feel good if someone else were doing it to you," Lara suggested. She pushed down harder, and there was no way I could avoid the presence of her cunt.

Sighing, I turned my face upward and my nose burrowed into her warm wet crotch.

My tongue wormed upward, into her fuzzy red patch of hair, and I giggled at the ticklish stimulation that passed along my tongue's length. Then I touched flesh, and giggling didn't seem appropriate and longer.

She was warm, with a tingling meaty taste, and my tongue tapped her again and again. Lara twisted to one side and my tongue scraped across the mouth of her slash. At the touch, she pressed down upon me and my tongue had nowhere to go except inside her, and that's exactly where it went. She was sopping wet, past the moist sweet cleft of her, and for the first time in my life, I tasted the honey drippings of a pussy in heat.

"Your hand," Lara said. "Use your hand on me, too!"

Well, she didn't have to tell me twice! In fact, my hand was already moving to join in when she spoke. My fingertips brushed the smooth sweaty flesh of her hip, then slid around to attack her pussy from the rear, the way she'd attacked mine in the bathroom when she first made a pass at me. I karate-chopped through her crack and my fingers found her twat from behind, one digital tip entering her easily-parted gates, the others drumming rat-a-tat-tat on the flesh surrounding the portals.

Her pussy was just as active, internally, as it had been when I fingered her on the bed a little while ago. The undulating muscles caught my finger in their spellbinding trap and pulled me deep, deep, deep into Lara. The sucking, the rippling, the sticky hot wetness – it must have been very much like drowning in quicksand. My finger pushed hard, sank deeper and deeper into her, until my knuckles were grinding furiously against her labia.

And all the while my tongue was busy too. I licked her slit, inside, outside, filled my mouth with her sweet, puss-flavored hairs, absorbed the meaty arousal of her cunt. My smacking lips kissed hard against her slice and my tongue stole forth, crept inside where it roved and explored alongside my finger. She was totally alive in there, a hotbed of responsive tissue sucking at me, pulling, drawing me inside her. Lara's pussy seemed to be alive, eager and willing to eat me up. As I licked and stabbed digitally into her twat, I felt that the gates of her slice were opening wider and wider, pulling me inside the woman's body, devouring me totally.

A heady feeling, to say the least! But I worked into it, co-operating, lending my tongue and my finger willingly. The taste of Lara reminded me that there were many worse things to be swallowed up in.

"My God, you're good," Lara called, riding down heavy and cunty on my face. The lips of her pussy squashed against me, spread wider, and my finger slipped deeper and deeper into her quivering box. I knew the come-feeling well enough from masturbating myself, and I could sense it in Lara McMinn's trembling body and sloppy puss. The realization made me scarf her all the more vigorously, determined to make her explode the way she'd made me.

God, be praised, I had that one hand untied and unfettered! I could use it on her, poke her pussy, slide back and forth across her perineum while my was busy inside her, even tickle her tight puckered asshole by way of diversion. And through it all, Lara rocked on my face, slamming down to drown me in the aroma of her frothing pussy, riding high only to come down again harder than before. Me? I guess you could say I ate it up.

Oh, did I eat it up! I mean, I was her prisoner, wasn't I? She had me handcuffed and tied to the bed, just the way Tony had done with his ropes and cords, the way Jerry had done in the van by sheer muscle power. I was immobile. If I wanted to live through this agony, I had to co-operate.

Oh, my God, she hadn't said a Goddamned thing about killing me or beating my face to a pulp or hammering me senseless – all she had done was tie me to the bed and I'd started salivating at her pussy like one of Pavlov's dogs! It was a chain reaction. I'd come all over her grinding face and shivered and shaken, and now I was responding just the way she'd requested – not commanded – me to respond. It was scary, in its way. Rebecca Lee Butler of Reckardsville, Ohio, seemed a long, long way in my past. I didn't know who I was now; I only knew that I was chomping like crazy on another woman's pussy and loving every second of my enforced sexual submission.

"Try this," Lara suggested, leaning back. She placed the edge of the wine glass on her belly, just below her tiny navel, and she started to pour the red liquid down herself.

It flowed through her pussy hair, separating into a dozen different streams, all of them converging on my mouth where it sucked lasciviously at Lara's pussy. The wine entered my mouth, mingled and mixed with the flowing secretions of Lara's cunt, and both her juices and her wine took on a new, fascinating flavor when they oozed across my tongue. She kept pouring, and my tongue acted as a funnel and as a brush. First I slurped in the wine, then I dribbled it out across her pussy flesh, lapping it home once again, this time to stay.

As if I needed extra stimulation! The handcuff on my wrist was chafing my skin every time my hand moved, but my hind didn't stop moving. Even the chafing felt too. I strained with that hand, wanting to touch Lara with it. Her nipples were high above me, stiff and straining, red targets for a hand that could not quite reach their points of ecstasy. My other hand was too busy in her cunt and crack to spare any time for reaching high and, though I knew the attempt was doomed from the start, I kept on struggling with my other hand, struggling to reach her sweet hot body.