White Lingerie

"Well," said Bobby, "maybe that's just what you are." He was fascinated by the sight of her pussy. His girlfriend always kept hers closely shaved, but Christine's had dark curly hair, thick in places. Very classic, Bobby thought to himself.

"Oh, you bad boy!" Christine playfully admonished.

"If you like," Bobby said, his lips close enough to Christine that her clit could feel his breath, "I don't have to do this. I could stop, you know," and he licked the part of her thigh that intersects with her pelvis. "I don't have to go any further," and then he licked Christine mere centimeters from the lips of her pussy.

"Don't you dare! You naughty tease! Do it! Do it!"

"Do what?"

"Eat me. EAT ME!!! Eat my pussy! Eat my pussy! Please!"

"Like this?" and Bobby began to make soft circles around Christine's clitoris.

As Christine moaned in response to Bobby's liking, Bobby settled himself in to sucking on her pussy. Listening for her responses, he tried the repertoire he had developed over the years. He wondered if Christine knew that Bobby was eating her pussy the way his girlfriend liked her pussy eaten. It was easiest to do what he was the most familiar with, but he was happy to discover that Christine was a little more active when getting eaten out then his girlfriend was.

Christine stroked her nipples through her white bra while her lover's tongue played between her legs. A passing thought of how different Bobby was from her husband crossed her mind, but she quickly shifted to thinking about how the situation would look in a porn film: the girl all in white lingerie, the man stark naked and sporting a big hard-on. Bobby's wasn't porn-star extreme, but it looked like it would do quite nicely between those lips he was now kissing!

Bobby was glad to discover that Christine loved her clit to be sucked on. "That's good!" she murmured in delight. As ecstasy gathered around Christine, Bobby found out that her style was to become more and more incoherent; she talked little but made very many sounds, high-pitched, feminine exaltations of indescribable pleasure.

Christine's hips rocked up and down violently on the approach to orgasm, and it was an effort just to follow her there. When she came it was in one long shout: "I'm commmmmmiiiiiiiiinnnnnngggggg!!!" followed by a delicate wail of delight. As she came, her thighs clasped around Bobby's head, shutting off his air supply. Her legs sprawled apart with the finish of her climax, and Bobby breathed again.

"Somebody had a good time," Bobby said, crawling up onto the bed to hold her.

"My goodness!"

"Have fun?" Bobby asked.

"Did I ever," she said, and kissed him, a hard French kiss that surprised Bobby.

"How do you taste?" he asked her saucily.

"Not bad," and kissed him again.

Bobby got up and brought out a towel from the bathroom. He wiped his face and tossed the towel down on the nightstand.

"What are we going to do about you?" Christine asked.

"Gosh," Bobby said, "beats me." He was standing in front of the bed; she was sitting up on the edge again. Her face was flushed and Bobby could see through the fabric of the bra that her nipples were hard.

"You've gotten all soft again. I think we can take care of that."

"Yeah? How?"

"Simple. Through the ancient art of cocksucking."

"And is this an art you practice?"

"Honey, bring your dick over here and you'll think I had a graduate degree."

Bobby approached Christine, and he leaned her head down and gobbled his limp member into her mouth. Bobby watched her dark straight hair move with the jerking of her head; in the room's wall mirror Bobby could see her profile as her pretty face sucked his cock into her mouth.

Christine noticed him watching her in the mirror.

"You like watching, huh?"

"Yeah."

"It's like watching a porn that you're starring in, hmmm?"

"Yeah."

"Your dick tastes good, Bobby. And look how hard you're getting, you horny boy."

"You are good at this, Christine."

"Good at what? At sucking dick? Damn right I am. Watch me. Watch me in the mirror. Watch me fuck your dick with my face. You like that? Hmmm?"

"Oh, Christine, you're so pretty. Your face is so pretty."

"Not too pretty to suck dick, though, right?"

"Oh, no."

"And don't I look even prettier with a dick in my mouth?"

"Every girl looks better with a dick in her mouth."

Christine giggled. Bobby was engorged between her lips, and Christine was working hard to keep him hard and to make him harder. She liked feeling this man's manhood in her mouth, she liked being able to explore it, kiss it, suck on it. He touched her brown hair while she sucked on him; she liked his gentle, loving caresses while she was doing something so filthy as giving him a blow job. She found the juxtaposition so erotic.

"I've never had a blow job from a married woman before," Bobby said.

"And how do us married woman do, huh? We suck dick good?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Then maybe you'll have to do it more often then."

"You know it."

"Well, right now I want to do something else."

"What?"

"I want to fuck."

Bobby leaned down, pulling his cock away from Christine's mouth and kissing her hard on her lips. Her lips were full of blood from her cocksucking; plump and bee stung. Their tongues played with each other, as they kissed each other passionately. They had all the afternoon, but their need showed in their hurried, urgent kisses.

"So," Bobby said, "did you suck your husband's dick like this on your wedding night?"

"No," Christine said. "He got the blushing bride, not the raving whore you're getting."

"I like the whore."

"I'll bet you do."

"Let me see those tits."

"You naughty man! You mean my breasts."

"I mean these soft tits," Bobby said, reaching for them and squeezing them through her bra. Christine feigned outrage, but she loved the lust that Bobby was showing for her.

"You naughty man! Manhandle me! That's how you treat a little tart, isn't it? Yes, that's it."

"Take this off."

Christine undid the catch in one deft movement, let the white lace bra fall down her lean arms and, devil-may-care, threw it across the room. Bobby's hands immediately went to the soft, pure flesh of his lover's breasts, being far more gentle than his throbbing erection wanted him to be. He kissed them, rubbed his face against the soft swells. They were not very large, but big enough to have picked up an almost imperceptible sag. Christine was only in her early thirties, though she was very fit and thin.

Bobby sucked on her pink nipples. They were small, like her breasts, with the attendant small aureoles that small breasts usually have. Like many women with small breasts, there was an electrical line running between Christine's nipples and her clitoris, and as her thirtysomething lover nursed on her, her clit became engorged again and her desire to have him plunge himself into her grew ever greater.

"I can't take it anymore, we've got to do something about this," Christine said, laying down on the bed. She rested her head on the pillows. She was wearing only white thigh high stockings and the white high heels that she was married in. Her lover followed her down onto the bed, positioned himself between her thighs, and teased the lips of her pussy with his erection.

"You know what I like about you, Christine?"

"What?"

"You're such a horny bitch."

"You're such an awful tease. Put it in me. Fuck me, Bobby."

"I don't know."

"What?"

"I've never fucked a married woman before."

"You bad boy! Do it! Fuck me!"

"I don't know . . ." he teased her. Her juices went squish as the head of his penis rubbed in and out her nether lips.

"Do it! Fuck me!" Christine commanded. "Fuck my lawfully wedded pussy, you big-dicked stud!"

Bobby sunk his length into her, feeling the impossible warmth, the impossible heat of her married pussy. She was tight. Christine could feel herself having to expand to accommodate Bobby, could feel that indescribable feeling of being full of something, of being happily, merrily full of dick.

They moaned at each other while they began to hump each other in rhythm. They kissed hard on the mouth as Bobby sawed in and out of her; Bobby kissed her neck; Christine held on to him tight as he drew down close and rode her.

"Oh, Bobby," she whimpered.

"You're such a good fuck, Christine."

"Fuck me. Fuck me, Bobby. Fuck me, baby."

"Get on your hands and knees, baby, let's do it doggie style. Oh yeah, if you're going to be a whore you better fuck like a whore."

They changed positions, Christine standing on the floor and leaning on the bed. Bobby slid back into her, holding onto her hips.

"You look so sexy like this!" Bobby exclaimed.

"I feel so slutty, trying to balance on these little heels, getting fucked by you and I can't even see you, just feel your hard cock!"

"Christine, your cunt feels amazing!"

"That's right, fuck my cunt! Fuck my cunt! Oh, Bobby!"

"Fuck, yeah."

"Oh, those candles you bought should be red, Bobby. Whorehouse red because you're fucking me like such a whore. Like a hotel room whore!"

"Christine, I'm so close!"

"Do it baby! Come on! Oh yeah! Come inside me! Do it! Come inside me! Don't worry—I'm on the pill! Come inside me!"

"Oh—yeeeaaaaahhh!" and Bobby came inside her with a series of long, guttural grunts. Christine sank down onto the bed, resting her weight against the soft mattress. Bobby's cock slipped out of her warm slit and he climbed up on the bed next to her.

Christine could not feel her lover's come inside of her, but it turned her on knowing it was there. She thought of how bad she had just been; how deliciously naughty to feel Bobby spasming inside of her, Bobby spasming because of her!

"Wow," she said, turning to Bobby next to her. "I should go to Bar events more often."