Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
And the brunette watched with wide brown eyes, amazed at the sheer amount I had to give. She’d already swallowed several mouthfuls and yet I was spraying more and more, coating her bed in a film of cum, my seed so copious and wet that the duvet was soaked through in a matter of seconds.
And after I’d finished orgasming, my big body heaving, sweat glistening on my chest and abs, my dick semi-hard still, dripping with remnants of semen, the little girl did something so disgusting, so rancid, that I was immediately ramrod hard again.
Because the little slut got on her hands and knees, nude, beautiful and wet, and shook her kitty at me before dipping her head to the coverlet and tonguing the pool of cream. That’s right, the kitty cat was lapping at my sperm, drinking the semen that I’d spilled and she was really into it, closing her eyes while savoring the taste, licking her lips like it was the best stuff on Earth. And I watched, mesmerized, the nastiness of her actions jumpstarting my pulse to about two hundred miles an hour. Because oh yeah, this girl was perfect for me … we were two parts to a puzzle and I’d just met my match.
6
Laurie
Oh god, it was so delicious. I loved the fact that I’d just fucked my delivery man with no idea of what his name was, no condom, no nothing. It was so wrong and it turned me on, living on the wild side.
Because I’d been depressed and repressed at once, the divorce painful, and this hot action, this nasty little episode, was just the thing to shake me from my despair. So I completely let go, acting out my wildest fantasies, not holding back at all, sucking him deep while sticking my finger up his ass, drinking his juices, and after it was all over, pushing my tongue into the wet pool on the duvet.
The big man loved it, watching my every move with ravenous eyes, his dick springing back to life even after he came.
“Fuck, little girl,” he rasped hoarsely, unable to tear his eyes away as I dipped my head for another taste of sperm on the coverlet. “Fuck, how’d you get so dirty?”
I just looked up and smiled, pausing for a moment.
“Mister,” I murmured throatily. “It comes natural to me.”
His eyes lit on fire then.
“Natural, huh?” he asked, slapping a big hand against my ass, making me jump with shock before quivering with pleasure, those square fingers already massaging the sensitive space, my skin warm almost hot, tingling at his touch. “Well, you’re the best natural I’ve ever had.”
I flushed, pleased then. Because I’d been so horny, so provocative that he hadn’t guessed my secret … that I’m a virgin. Yeah, it’s pretty unbelievable given that I’d just done a deep-throat combined with a prostate massage, but you can learn anything on the internet these days and I’ve seen my fair share of porn, firing up my laptop to surf the nasty sites, always making sure to clear my history afterwards. And even though I’m a slut, what I’d done today was nothing, totally nothing compared to what professionals did on screen.
But yeah, going back to my admission – I’m a virgin who’s also a divorcee. And it makes a twisted kind of sense once you know my story. Because why else do you think I left my husband? Gary and I dated two years before the wedding and we’d never done it during that time, never sampled each other, never explored each other intimately. My ex always said he wanted to “save himself,” arguing that he was “respecting me” by not touching me until there was a wedding band on my finger.
I was so young then, so naïve, that I bought it. Gary was completely different from the boys in high school who’d been all over me, pawing at my breasts, trying to grope my pussy, even begging me for blow jobs, pleading with their faces scrunched up, groins twisted in agony. So when Gary argued that he was being the better man, acting the gentleman, I believed it.
Except when it came to our wedding night, he didn’t deliver. At first, it was no big deal. We were in the honeymoon suite at midnight, exhausted from the festivities and Gary was face down on the big bed, still dressed in his tuxedo, shiny loafers on.
“Gary,” I said, prodding his shoulder. “Come on, get up. It’s time to get lucky.”
I’d shed my wedding gown and was clad in nothing but high heels some flimsy, filmy lingerie, a tiny teddy and matching g-string I’d picked up at a French boutique a couple days earlier. Oh yeah, the time had come and I was horny and wet, desperate to get my cherry popped. Even though we were exhausted and tired, I was still intent on fucking my new husband asap.