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Sirens (mf)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Subject: Repost: Sirens (mf)
Date: Mon Jul 17 09:35:08 1995
Sirens (mf)
another erotic bit by David Cain
Practice at every opportunity made me an expert cunnilingualist, and with
that power in my belt, I had no choice but to raise my standards. Even the
prettiest, most intelligent women will melt when subjected to a masterful
tongue (unless, of course, they've discovered another source of continual
orgasms) Mostly I lay back now, and watch them display the merchandise.
A woman who has found a steady source of head will invariably brag about
their conquest to some frustrated friend, who will decide that getting
their pussy licked isn't nearly so unfaithful as, say, fucking would be,
and it doesn't take long before she's lying pantiless beneath me. But
my time is scarce, so I make a woman earn her tongue-lashing.
A friend of mine once commented that "I like to be seduced," and I've come
to the conclusion that we all like to be seduced - but someone has to be
horny enough to compose the seduction. I'll do the production when it suits
me to devote the time, but (to quote Laclos) "there is nothing more flattering
than a well-executed attack." If you want me, come and get me.
The most memorable "attack" to which I fell prey came from my current wife's
best friend. IQ and I had been screwing ourselves senseless for about four
months when we finally managed to assemble enough clothes at once for a
(quick) trip into town. We met IQ's friend, Jazz, at a restaraunt.
Understand that IQ is a wicked girl, by any count, and I could hardly begin
to predict the thoughts that enter her head. I knew far less about Jazz, at
that time, and played my hand like a cautious, sexually exhausted young man
might. I was downright gallant, but by the end of dinner, Jazz was licking
her lips while smiling into my eyes.
Jazz is a small woman, with chestnut hair and a lean physique. She isn't
a striking beauty, but without flaw. A certain energy in her expression,
however, revealed a savage lust. I was intrigued, but in no hurry to add
yet another pussy to my immediate responsibilities. Jazz had other ideas.
When the evening ended, and we headed back to our seperate abodes, I could
feel a sincere disappointment all around - there was no question we should
have found a big matress and shared some lust, but I felt it was not my
place to suggest any such thing at that point, and the girls succumbed to
caution. Naturally we managed to break that barrier down in no time, but
that is another tale.
Jazz knew IQ's schedule better than I did, and so I knew she was playing
when she called the apartment ten minutes after IQ left for class.
"But she promised to give me a ride from the shop, and I'm stuck here without
a ride." Poor thing.
"I'll be by in a few minutes." What could I do?
Jazz had taken her car to be fixed at the garage a few miles from our place,
and I didn't know whether to cry or smile when I drove in between the pumps
to discover Jazz leaning up against the Coke machine, wearing a pair of
running shorts and a t-shirt cut off just beneath the swell of her breasts.
"Get in," I called out. What could I do?
"Got any smokes?" she said, putting her feet up on the dashboard. Her lean
legs glistened in the sunlight. I handed her a crushed pack.
"Thanks," she said, looking at me over her shades.
"I can't believe IQ did this to me," she moaned as she lit the cig. "I'm
just glad you were home. I hope this isn't too much bother?"
I shifted in my seat, combatting a stiffening discomfort. "No, no problem."
Jazz drew deeply on the cigarette, and stared out the passenger's window. As
she did, her left hand fell into her lap and her fingers began to fondle her
crease.
"Where we going?"
"Let's go to your place. I need to pick up the car in a couple of hours, and
I've got nothing to do. Unless that's a problem. You can take me home, or
even drop me off at the mall."
"No problem." I turned into the parking lot.
Jazz jumped out of the car and dashed into the house. I followed behind.
I stepped through the door, and Jazz tossed a beer to me. She led the way
onto the deck, where she dropped casually onto the lounge chair. I sat
across from her. She flipped onto her side, and looked at me. Her right
hand teased the nipple of her breast through the t-shirt. I gasped as it
doubled in size. Jazz pushed aside the cloth, and squeezed.
My cock was throbbing and when she licked her lips, I knew exactly what she
meant.
"I can't help it," she said, turning away. "I've been so fucking horny, and
nobody's doing me justice these days. IQ says you can lick a mean cunt, and
I'll do anything to find out."
"My pleasure," I reassured her, and knelt beside this aching woman, to slip
the shorts over her tight ass. A soft brown pussy, soaked with anticipation
lay spread suddenly before me. I tickled her upper thigh with my fingers,
and a deep seated moan fell from her soul. I kissed her labia, tickled her
soft hairs, and then paid my respects to Jazz's little clit.
Some clits crave a licking, others need a sucking, and from the power of
her reaction, I knew that Jazz's weakness was to feel that pink nub drawn
lightly between my lips as my tongue lavished a seranade over its moist face.
When the orgasms finally subsided, I had two fingers in her pussy, and two
more up her ass, and Jazz had twisted, turned and screamed until she was
to worn to moan.
At that point a woman will give you anything - I asked IQ to marry me while
she was in such a state - and I told Jazz to turn over, so I could fuck her
little ass. She proffered it at once, and I spent myself quickly in the
muscled grip. Jazz quickly fell asleep on the lounge, naked and satisfied.
I waited for a while, but she looked so peaceful that I didn't want to wake
her - but eventually I had to go meet an appointment, and I left her there.
I'm not sure what IQ found when she came home, nor do I know what tales were
shared or kept secret. It was only a few days later that we became a menage,
so I have my guesses.
tbc
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Power belongs to those who dare... Sapere aude
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