Sophia's World

TWENTY

We must leave Sophia and Kimmy in order to return to London, where we left our threesome in a somewhat delicate state. While Peter and Veronique are basking in a post-coital glow, Myška is a decidedly unhappy bunny. What she thought was the mere formality of a mercy fuck for the Frenchwoman has ended up as Peter adding another notch to his belt. Ever the diplomat, though, Peter has managed to have a quiet word with Veronique. He tells her how much Myška has been talking about deepening her relationship with the elegant Parisienne, how disappointed she had been that night at the lesbian bar when she thought she would enjoy a more intimate coupling. There was a semblance of truth in all of this, even if Peter was laying it on a bit thick to kick-start something between the two women.

In the end, Veronique, knowing that she might be seeing a lot more of Peter and that, conversely, this was probably the last time she would be seeing the Czech girl, as she was returning soon to her home country, promised Peter that she would 'kiss and make up'. Peter grinned and said he would be only to happy to witness this auspicious event.

Clad in a diaphanous silk dressing gown, Veronique brought a tray containing glasses and a jug of lime cordial to the bedroom and offered to pour a drink for Myška. Myška accepted with such grace as she could muster and enquired of her host the whereabouts of Peter. Learning that he was making himself a cup of hot chocolate, Myška laughed.

'He's always sneaking down to do that in the middle of the night, especially if he's been on a bender.'

'You like him very much, don't you?' said Veronique, cutting to the chase.

'Yes. I will miss him so much when I have to leave them.'

'He is your benchmark for men, no?'

'I suppose so. But I don't think I will ever find another man like Peter.'

'And who is your benchmark for women? Sophia?'

'My god, no! My partner Piri is very protective of me and I know she will always be there for me, but sometimes, I don't know, there is something -' she broke off.

'Something missing? Like a magic spark?'

'I guess so. Maybe we have been together for too long. I don't know.'

In one swift movement, Veronique slipped out of her dressing gown and let it fall to the ground. Myška's eyes were instantly drawn to her puffy brown labia, which nestled under their very own raven canopy.

'Maybe I can satisfy you?' said Veronique, hands on hips, thrusting herself forward better to display her wares.

'Maybe you are still angry with me?' she said with a mixture of contrition and seduction.

A little confused, and not caring to talk, Myška put her drink down and moved towards the spark that had lit the fire in her belly. She couldn't trust this foreigner (tonight she had lost her trust even for Peter - her rock) but somehow that didn't seem to matter. She wasn't seeking a soulmate or a business partner; she was seeking sex. Sex pure and simple. And she had witnessed first hand the power of this woman. She had reduced Peter to an ordinary man, to a man who will do anything for a fuck. Now, she would fuck

her

, Myška, and she would fuck her good.

Myška put her hand round Veronique's neck quite roughly and drew her into a kiss. She liked the way the woman tasted. Sort of aniseed or was it star anise? Her tits sagged a bit but must have been splendid when they were still in their prime. Myška cupped a breast in her hand, as if she were weighing it. It felt good. She refocused her attention on the kiss, playing with the older woman's tongue, chasing it around her sweet mouth. One of Veronique's hands, which had been on her waist, moved to Myška's bottom. It obviously liked what it found, as it was soon joined by the other hand. Together they started to knead the buttocks - firm and boyish, almost a carbon copy of Veronique's own.

Myška had started out on this encounter determined to take charge and stay in charge, but suddenly she wasn't so sure. She could sense the potential for domination in Veronique and the more she thought about it, the more she was turned on by it. She decided to play it by ear and in the meantime to be the driving force in the partnership. She once more refocused her attention on the kiss, this time engulfing Veronique's small mouth in her own and suckling on lips, tongue and even teeth. She felt Veronique upping her own performance, responding to her, reciprocating her actions and using the full length of her lizard-like tongue.

While her own hand was still on Veronique's breast - now tweaking her nipple - she suddenly felt the Frenchwoman's hand move into the crack between her buttocks. One finger made short work of Myška's defences and entered her anus. Feeling the Czech girl's knees buckle, Veronique guided her to the bed and, without withdrawing her finger, laid her on her side. In one fell swoop, the initiative had been won and lost. Withdrawing her finger, Veronique told Myška to get onto all fours. Spreading the slender girl's butt cheeks, the experienced woman drove her tongue into the nanny's most private place. Taken completely off guard, Myška howled out, not in pain but in an expression of primal passion.

Alerted by the sudden noise, Peter jumped out of his chair in the sitting room, where he had been playing with his phone and rushed upstairs so as not to miss the action. It was all he could do not to take his T-shirt and his boxer's off and drive his penis into Veronique's asshole.

'Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' thought Peter, channelling his inner Hugh Grant. 'For little Myška's sake, and her sake only, I will not take this gorgeous French temptress in the ass.'

Aware of his presence, said temptress raised her ass higher in the air and, using her spare hand, spread her ass cheeks wider, revealing the terracotta interior hitherto concealed by her exquisite brown bud.

'Fucking bitch! Fucking French whore!' muttered Peter under his breath, as the display continued before his eyes.

It was only because he owed it to Myška that Peter beat a hasty retreat to a chintz chair and, resisting the temptation to put his foot through the stupid dandified thing, took a seat and hunkered down to watch the rest of the show.

Veronique was in no hurry. She worked Myška's ass with almost scientific precision, reaching further than Peter could have thought possible. Peter got out of his chair to get a better view of Myška's face. Her teeth were gritted, not, he thought, in pain, but either as a result of the intensity of the experience or because she had no wish to come so quickly. If the latter was the case, she had reckoned without the Frenchwoman's professional pride. Removing her tongue from her anus, she spun around and attacked Myška's pussy from below. Broad strokes over her narrow slit drew groans from the Czech girl. A quick return to her glory hole elicited grunts of a more animalistic nature. Next it was the turn of the younger woman's clit to receive the cougar's magic touch. Looking on, Peter was reminded of an orchestral percussionist moving rapidly and expertly between his varied array of instruments.

Veronique had clearly identified the clitoris as Myška's Achilles heel. She knew she need venture no further in her quest to bring her to climax. She didn't even need to up the tempo. She knew that when a woman was as tightly wound as this, she could be sent over the precipice by the merest touch. So, instead of speeding up, she slowed down until the interval between one sweep of the tongue and the next was a matter of seconds. She was giving the girl the chance to participate in her own orgasm, to build herself up so that Veronique's next traverse would act as the trigger for her eruption.

The strategy had worked many times before and Veronique knew beyond any doubt that it would work again tonight with a woman of such emotional fragility. Barely had her tongue made contact with the swollen bundle of nerve endings than Myška first trembled, then cried out and finally was overwhelmed by wave after wave of sweet, blessed release.

Back in the hills above LA, Kimmy was hungry: not for food, but for Sophia's pussy. She was in a hurry to taste it, to devour it, but as a true professional she knew her job. She barely waited for the blonde to come down from the mountain top before she began kissing her: at first tenderly, but quickly with increased urgency. Sophia played her part like a stalwart; though, in all honesty, it has to be said that her performance contained little acting. She grabbed the older woman's generous ass in her two hands and began massaging her orbs, almost imperceptibly inching closer to the centre with each move. Kimmy wouldn't let this put her off, as she moved her attention to Sophia's splendid tits. Ramping up her intensity, she worked her magic on the fatty tissue before homing in on the jewel in the crown. Sophia moaned as the first flick of the skilled tongue assailed her nipple. It shot up as if it had been pumped full of air and challenged the older woman to worship it and make sacrifices to it. She was fortunate that she was in the hands of a devotee of an almost fanatical persuasion.

Kimmy lashed the nipple from every side, as if it were being flagellated in a Hindu purification ritual. She was clearly a high priestess who took her duties seriously, as once she had finished with one breast, without pausing, she transferred her attention to the other one. As she had hoped and indeed planned, each breast was conveying messages to Sophia's HQ. The gist of the messages was loud and clear: allow entry to foreign invaders and see that their every wish is indulged.

Thus it was that by the time she reached Sophia's pussy, it was slick and welcoming, its gates closed but unlocked. So comprehensive had the preparations been that the gates that opened to Kimmy's light touch were well-oiled, swinging easily into a fully retracted position. Kimmy drank the juices she was offered in the antechamber and proceeded into the main banqueting hall, where a veritable feast had been provided. In the unhurried manner of the habitual conqueror, she sampled the various appetisers, whetting her appetite for the main course.

First though, she must choose from the menu and to do that she must call for the serving girl. Looking about her, she found a button and pressed it. Far off she heard a faint sound, as of one who is preparing to come. She waited a while but nothing happened. Perhaps this wench is sleeping on the job, she thought. She pressed the button again - all the while not neglectful of the tidbits on offer - this time for longer. This time the sound was louder. It appeared that the serving girl was on her way. She clearly wasn't in the peak of physical fitness, as her breath was ragged. She also appeared to be in some pain, as she was yelling out. Temperatures suddenly rose, to extremely dangerous levels. Kimmy could see what had happened; the flames were licking at the girl's body and she had no defence against them.

'I cannot believe what I am seeing!' Kimmy exclaimed.

The girl - naked - had walked straight into the flames. Surely, she would perish. But, no! A minute or so later she emerged again, all pain assuaged - her face radiant and her body glowing. Full of gratitude to Kimmy, she embraced her and, in the kiss, she tasted for herself the delicacies she had just offered up in the banqueting hall.

TWENTY ONE

Sophia was understandably impatient to lick this vixen out. She had been on the receiving end for nearly the entire time and she wanted to show Kimmy - as well as Jan - that she knew her way around a woman's body. She decided she'd take her from behind. She told the older woman to get on all fours, and got straight down to business. Opening her ass cheeks, she massaged her pink and brown anus, dropped a slug of saliva onto it, and zeroed in on the target with her tongue. My, it tasted good!

Grabbing Kimmy's tits roughly in her hands, she rubbed them all over, paying special attention to the tiny nipples. Tiny they may have been, but, oh, how so sensitive! Kimmy started to moan under the assault on so many fronts, so, freeing up one hand, Sophia drove two fingers into the pro's somewhat less than tight pussy.

'This one can take my fist easily,' Sophia thought. 'Probably both of them together!'

One sufficed for now, as the blonde slid her hand into the porn star's drenched pussy. Sensing that she was on the edge (she thought these women could go for hours without coming), Sophia drove her tongue as far up the woman's Hershey Highway as it would go. The effect was dramatic and instantaneous. No longer an adult actress playing a role, but just a woman, a sexual being, Kimmy had the kind of orgasm that, for the last however many years it was, she had only experienced in her own bedroom. Unable to keep her position, she collapsed onto the bed, rolling over onto her back and lewdly offering herself to the voracious Englishwoman.

Sophia momentarily admired her shaven mons (pausing to consider whether such a style would suit her and whether it would be too shocking to the traditionalist in Peter) before parting her petals so she could get a good look at her vagina. It seemed larger than her own -larger than the ones she was familiar with - causing Sophia to start wondering whether all that sex had somehow enhanced her equipment. After all, she must have been at it - what? three or four times a week for perhaps 15 years? Maybe it was just what she had been born with, Sophia thought. She was after all a tall and powerfully built woman. Unless she had had surgery down here? No, surely not! Sophia began to chuckle at her own flights of fantasy.

With all these imponderables, one thing remained certain: Kimmy's need to achieve another orgasm - this one, if possible, even more powerful than the last. Sophia decided to start by attacking the clitoris. How she would love to make the pro come without delving into her pussy proper! Never one to lack confidence, she got down to work. She rolled back the layer of skin that covered a woman's best friend and was startled by the sight of the protuberance that jutted out as if challenging her.

'Fuck! This is going to be easy,' she thought.

It was now simply a matter of deciding which route to take. Would it be finger first, then tongue? Would finger suffice? Should she go straight to tongue? Sophia went with her instinct. Tongue it was to be: soft tissue against soft tissue. Surely that giant bud hadn't calcified, she thought. Touching it tentatively, she realised how truly sensitive it was. A big softie, after all. A sort of female Shrek. A gentle giant.

Gentle giant or not, it had to be taken down. Sophia used a finger from both hands to give her maximum access to the fleshy skyscraper. In a matter of minutes (perhaps, seconds), she thought, it would be a towering inferno. Without any further warning, the Blitzkrieg was mounted. The Panzer division that was her tongue bombarded its target without mercy or pause for nigh on a minute. Just as Sophia's ammunition was running low, she sensed that a crack was appearing in the superstructure. The edifice was in serious danger of collapsing. All it needed was a well-directed salvo. Sophia decided to replace her tongue with a finger for just a few seconds while she caught her breath. As it turned out, the tongue was no longer needed. At the first touch of Sophia's smooth skin, the tower broke apart and then imploded with cataclysmic force.

While Kimmy and Sophia (for real, this time) were showering after completing their scenes, over in south-west London, Peter and Myška were heading home in a taxi after their evening with Veronique. Myška couldn't get the image of the Frenchwoman's fingers raking Peter's cock out of her mind, nor the image of Peter face locked between her thighs bringing her to a shuddering climax. She moved her own hand onto Peter's thigh and inched slowly upwards towards his waist. Her progress was impeded by his penis - once more primed for action. She traced her way downwards until she came to his head, stroking it firmly through the cotton of his trousers. She imagined his pre-cum oozing out and she herself sucking it greedily into her throat.

Once they got home, Myška couldn't resist the opportunity to tease Peter about the Frenchwoman. Her words served two purposes: firstly, to make her man feel guilty for his infidelity to her and secondly to arouse them both so the night would finish with a bang. Of course, Peter played things down, saying she wasn't really his type, was a bit old for his taste, and so on. Tearing off his clothes, Myška pushed him onto the bed and slowly took off her own.

'I'm going to make you forget that dried up old prune,' she said with feeling.

'Already forgotten,' Peter said, somewhat disingenuously, as a picture of his cock poleaxing her tight box flooded his mind.

'She made you so hard. I saw,' said Myška simply.

'It was

you

who made me hard,' said Peter.

'Liar!'

Imitating the French cougar, Myška ran her nails along Peter's pounding cock.

'I'm going to do everything

she

did to you,' she whispered.

'And more...'

Lifting high his handsome penis - which stood almost straight, with only the slightest of curves in it - she fingered his balls gently, while helping herself to the firstfruits of his liquid emission. She was going to start at the base of his column, but, changing her mind, started at the sensitive spot, shaped like a V, where the glans meets the underside of the penis. Peter whimpered softly, urging Myška on to still greater things. Returning to the fish-eye opening, she attempted to penetrate it with the tip of her tongue. Futile as the exercise might be, Peter purred his appreciation. Basking in the glow of his esteem, she bathed his globe with her tongue, approaching it from a variety of angles like a hummingbird to make sure she covered every millimetre. His penis began to jounce wildly.

Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, the nanny lowered herself onto her lover, facing him, so she could be sure (as sure as dammit) that he wasn't fantasising about Veronique while he made love to her. He felt bigger than ever. She was ready to come and she thought that he was too. Time would tell.

'Next week I leave you and you may never see me again,' she said, increasing the amount of bounce she was generating on his pogo stick.

Receiving no response from Peter, she intuited that he wanted her to talk him to orgasm, as much as take him there physically.

'You know I can no longer trust you, and I have no faith at all in your urinary organ.'

'All a woman needs to do is flutter her eyelashes at you and you are hers.'

Peter kept eye contact with her, and began to synchronise his upbeats to Myška's downbeats.

'You are a very bad man and you deserve to receive what all bad men must receive if they are to repent and change.'

Working together, they were increasing their tempo, the mattress's springs now clearly audible.

'True repentance requires confession. I want to hear you confess tonight's sins.'

Peter screwed up his face as the first stirrings of orgasm began to form within him. He managed a strained reply.

'I fucked Veronique and I wanted her.'

'Will you fuck her again?'

Instead of answering her, Peter increased the tempo of his thrusts.

'Will you fuck her again? If you refuse to answer me, I will never have sex with you again.'

'Fuck, yes. I want to fuck her again so badly.'

'Did you want to fuck her again tonight?

'Fuck, yes!'

'Then fuck her now. Pretend I am her. One day you will be fucking her and thinking of me.'

Peter was bucking so hard that he nearly tossed her off. He was very close, But, then again, so was she.

'Come inside your precious Veronique!' yelled Myška, beginning to orgasm, urging Peter on to do the same.