T And A

Amity reclined against the wall, her smallish breasts thrust forward until they caught the light and glistened. She ran her thumbs over her coppery nipples, circling in under her areolae and then pinching the nipples between thumb and forefinger until they were hard as diamonds. Her little pink tongue lapped at her parted lips. She slid her right hand down over her flat belly, stopping at the sparse tangle of bush she kept above her otherwise bald pussy. She fluffed the curls into a neat little tuft.

"Spread your pussy lips a little, would you please?" I asked. "Good. Now, could you keep them spread while you slide your index finger in?"

Amity turned her head up and towards me and half closed her eyes. Her lips parted wider until I caught a flash of pale white teeth behind the peach pink. She moaned softly.

"That's great. Squat down and stick two fingers in."

Amity effortlessly bent her legs and slid down the wall. She splayed her legs, the toned muscles of her calves popping, the pale tan skin of her inner thigh looking eminently kissable. Her plump labia spread and shone under the light, showing a study in contrast, olive against shocking pink. She placed her right hand between her hip and her pussy, resting her thumb near the bud of her clitoris. She slid her index and middle fingers into her cunt up to the second knuckle.

"Okay, now lick those fingers. Oh, do you want a tissue?"

Amity shook her head, then opened her lips. With her index finger she tugged down her plump lower lip, while her tongue lapped at her wet middle finger. Her left hand dangled just in front of her cunt.

"Let's do the toy now."

Amity took the clear glass dildo and lapped at the head, miming fellatio. It was about six inches long, and she swallowed three of those, her arm bent above her, the dildo held like it was a microphone and she was a torch singer. All the time, her free hand played with her cunt.

"Doggy, please."

She knelt on all fours, showing her ass then rearing up and spreading her legs until I could see her pussy. She eased the dildo in, arching her head round so that I could see her face. Her eyes were screwed shut, her lips parted to give an expression half way between a snarl and a moan. She fucked herself with slow, deep strokes.

"Now frontal. Back against the wall, legs wide."

She pressed her back hard against the wall and looked me straight in the eye. Her nipples were peaked, her tongue pressed firm against the left corner of her lips. A blush suffused her cheeks and the tops of her breasts, down which trickled trails of clean sweat that ran in tapering rivulets down her smooth body. Her cunt was split wide by the dildo.

Her left hand kneaded her breast hard. Her chest heaved with deep, fast panting, almost silent on the inhale, then the exhale like a muffled explosion. On each exhale she rammed the dildo in to the base, on each inhale she tugged it back out until only the swollen head was inside her, making her labia bulge.

Amity fucked herself faster and faster, her right hand almost a blur. Her left hand abandoned her engorged nipples and began to flick swiftly at her clitoris. She began to moan, a long continuous "ooh" that was broken only by her intermittent gasped breaths. Her back arched, shoulders back and a delicious shiver ran across the taut, downy skin of her belly, and made her tits quiver like jelly.

"Well," I said, putting down the camera. "I think that should do it for today."

***

I first met Tom in a franchise coffee house shortly after I had scalded the wrist of a man in a cheap suit and managed to pour the rest of the mug over his laptop. Now, I don't claim I was the best waitress in the world, but this was a first even for me. It wasn't entirely my fault - a lady had come in with a toddler and a child in a pushchair, and the toddler managed to tangle the chair around my legs. As I fell I twisted to avoid pouring the mug of coffee on the kid - I assumed he hadn't tripped me deliberately - which resulted in the scalding and laptop-ectomy of the man. When he called me a "fucking bitch," I realised he hadn't taken it well.

"Do you have any idea of how much this fucking thing fucking cost?"

I looked the laptop over. It was polar white, very shiny and looked as if it would shatter if a fly landed on the half-eaten apple embossed on the lid. "Well," I heard myself saying, "about three times more than it's

fucking

worth?"

"You cunt..." The man raised his arm, though he kept his hand open so I didn't think he was actually going to hit me. I don't know what would have happened, because just then I heard a relaxed voice saying, "Oh, I used to have one of these. They're pretty durable, at least as long as you don't drop them in the bath. Let's see... yes, still works. Miss, could I borrow your cloth a moment?"

He was sitting with perfect ease in the chair the businessman had left vacated to better berate me. He was wearing a dark T-shirt, which clung to his broad, flat chest and followed the tapering of his body to his waist. His arms were pale and well-toned without being too muscular. I almost wet my panties when I saw his hands: the smooth skin and long expressive fingers. His long legs filled his jeans very nicely.

His icy blue eyes were shaded by dark eyebrows that were perhaps a little too full for his face. His hair was trimmed quite short, and I imagined that longer hair might soften the somewhat harsh line of his cheeks. His lips were thin, and there was a trace of cruelty in the carefully bland smile he turned on the businessman.

"Thanks," he said when I gave him the cloth. He dried the traces of coffee on the laptop with slow, deliberate strokes, then turned it toward the empty chair at the table. His cold eyes fixed on the businessman and he said, "Why don't you sit down and check that this still works? I'm sure the management will comp the coffee for you."

His accent was unusual, almost Radio 4 English, but with a musical lilt that sounded almost Californian. He gave the cloth back to me with a smile that made me wonder how I'd ever thought his face cruel. I quickly cleaned the rest of the table while the businessman, clearly furious, but not certain what this calm man might do, played around with his laptop.

"No charge for the coffee," I said.

The businessman sneered. "You've just lost yourself a customer."

The other man smiled. "Don't worry," he said. "I doubt you were much of a tipper anyway."

"Hi, he said to me, and smiled again. "I'm Tom."

"Felicity," I said and smiled straight back at him.

Three dates later my thighs were wrapped around his neck as he devoured my pussy. I remember thinking, my he knows what he's doing. His hands alternated between caressing my butt,stroking the insides of my thighs and fingering my pussy lips. His hot wet tongue was sandwiched between my labia, lapping at my clit as if it were a lollipop. I could feel my clit getting more and more sensitive with each pass of his cunning tongue.

"Oh god," I said, "I'm coming." What was unusual, at least for me recently, was that I wasn't lying. My ex-boyfriend hadn't been as diligent a muff-diver. I'd looked down once on one of the few occasions that I'd coerced him into eating me - usually by refusing to suck him off until he ate me - and seen him, eyes squinted shut, his tongue hesitantly extended, like a man forced to taste something he was certain he was going to hate.

I mean it's not like he was ferreting about in a huge bush, I've always kept my pussy well-trimmed. At least since I turned nineteen. He got me worried that perhaps I tasted bad down there, to the extent that one day after masturbating I licked my fingers clean. I tasted fine, I thought, though perhaps I'm biased.

I'd been distracting myself to prolong that delicious slow build to orgasm, but when Tom began tickling his finger around my asshole, I was shocked into an orgasm so powerful I actually squirted. Tom trailed his tongue slowly up my body until he was kissing my neck. I reached down and undid the button fly of his boxers.

Tom's cock flopped out of his gaping boxers, and I took it in my hand. I stroked both hands from the head down the shaft until I was cupping his balls, which I squeezed and twisted. He stopped kissing me and leaned back on the bed until he was looking right in my eyes. I looked straight back. "You can come in my mouth," I said.

Tom rolled onto his back and hitched up his hips until he could slide the boxers off completely. He threw them onto my bedroom floor, where the dress I had worn lay like a slewed snake skin by the door. Our discarded clothes made a trail to the bed: first the dress, next Tom's shirt, then the black thong panties he had almost torn in his rush to taste me. I had undone the matching bra myself as he went down on me, and it now hung off the bedside lampshade, casting an oblate bat-signal on the ceiling.

Tom's cock was long and fat, big enough that I could get both hands on the shaft with plenty of room for my lips, thick enough that my fingers couldn't come close to closing around it. My ex-boyfriend's cock had a very thin shaft, with a thickish, too long head like a stink horn mushroom. It was coloured like a mushroom, too, pale and unhealthy giving a sense that it might at any moment begin to ooze.. Tom's was genuinely beautiful: nicely proportioned, thick head and shaft, with an almost tan colouration. It felt solid in my hand,felt weighty and meaty and immensely satisfying.

I parted my lips and swallowed the thick head and laved it with my tongue. I wanked the shaft with both hands, slowly at first, stroking all the way from head to base. Tom was uncircumcised, like every other guy I'd been with, actually, and as I used my lips to suck on him, I rang my tongue counter-clockwise again and again around his foreskin. His hands were on my head and in my hair, not trying to control the motions of my head, which I hate, but just stroking my hair and caressing my neck. Every time he brushed the skin behind my ear I shivered.

I could just fit the whole head of Tom's cock in my mouth without gagging. Deep-throating has never been one of my talents, I get sick easily so unless you've got a very particular fetish you don't want me to attempt it. "That feels amazing, Felicity," he said.

I suckled on him for minutes, while his hands caressed me until my pussy was again dripping wet. I felt his back tense, and was suddenly very aware of the throbbing pulse in his big cock. "I'm going to come," he warned me in a husky whisper. I gobbled his cock even more greedily.

With a gasp he came, spilling an ocean of come into my wet mouth. I could taste him, pungent, salty and sweet and very, very hot. I pulled my mouth of the head of his cock with an audible pop. A long string, a mix of come and saliva, stretched from the tip of his cock to the corner of my mouth. I lapped it away, showed him the come sitting in a declivity in my tongue, like a pearl in an oyster. Swallowed, showed him my now empty mouth.

"God, you're amazing Felicity. Now, give me a few minutes and then I think I'd like to spend the rest of the night fucking you senseless."

We finally got to sleep at around five am, and dawn wasn't until six, so he didn't quite keep his word. Still, I wasn't all that disappointed.

***

I rolled over and looked at Felicity, asleep. Her mouth was open and she was snoring softly. She looked very beautiful, and I kissed her smooth forehead. I wondered how she could sleep so easily next to someone she barely knew.

I got up and pulled on my jeans and T-shirt. I went into the hall. She told me she had a one-bedroom flat, and there was only one other door coming of her hall. Sure enough, it led into an open plan sitting-room/kitchenette. I picked my way quietly through cupboards until I found coffee - a cheap instant brand - and bread and preserve.

I filled the kettle and put the bread in the toaster. I found two mugs while I waited and scooped some of the coffee into them. At dinner the previous night Felicity had taken her coffee black, like me, so I didn't bother trying to find sugar or milk.

On the kitchen counter were a set of bills, and I flicked idly through them. Electricity, phone, credit card. All final notice, and well past due. I sighed once. The toast burst out of the machine with a thick rasp. I spread butter and jam on the toast. When the kettle boiled, I poured the water into the mugs and put everything on a tray.

In the bedroom, Felicity was just waking up. Her back was to the door, and as I came in she half turned toward me and the sheet slipped to the floor. I could see the fine smooth muscles of her back tapering until the wide flair of her hips and the twin mounds of her opalescent buttocks. I imagined parting those cheeks and seeing her gorgeous pussy peeking through, and I could feel my cock begin to stir.

The arch of her back had bared the tip of one small breast to me, and now I sat next to her on the bed, placed the tray down, and took the nipple into my mouth. Felicity giggled and reached a hand back to stroke my leg. "Breakfast first," she said. We ate the toast and drank the coffee, only occasionally letting our hands stray to each other's bodies.

Felicity picked up the jam jar and spooned some onto her belly. "Oh no," she said in a little girl voice. "I seem to have spilled on myself."

"Perhaps I can help?"

The sweet jam mixed with the dried salt of her sweat from the night before. I lapped cat like at her stomach, my hands undoing my jeans. She tugged my head up until we were looking each other in the eyes, then she kissed me, her tongue darting into my mouth. I sucked lightly on it and playfully batted it about with my own. I caressed her breasts and her perky little nipples; she stroked my cock and balls.

I broke the kiss and began to nibble on her ear, remembering the reaction I'd got from this area the night before. My hard cock was held tight between her thighs, nestling against her pussy lips, which were red hot and dripping wet. "Fuck me," she moaned. "Fuck me."

I rolled her onto her side, then got behind her. "Oh, no," she said, "I don't do..."

"Trust me," I said. "I'm not going to fuck your ass."

I had turned her towards her wardrobe door. It was a double wardrobe with mirrored doors, and now I watched her reflection. Her rose-bloom cheeks and parted lips, almost swollen from the night before. The slender neck and flushed chest, her small breasts sagging only a little downwards with hard nipples staring back at me. A brief lacuna around her belly button where the doors joined and the mirror stopped. Then the little tuft of pubic hair, just above her wet cunt. Below that, my hard cock.

I wrapped my leg lightly over hers, mine thick and hairy, hers smooth and slender. I reached around and guided the head of my cock into her pussy, then slowly thrust inside. In the mirror, we watched as my cock spread her labia. I wet my fingers in her pussy, then fingered her firm little clit. Felicity moaned, and reached back between her legs to stroke the inches of my cock not inside her.

She ground back against me, almost swirling her ass as she did so that my cock entered her with a strange, delicious corkscrew motion. I buried my face in the soft hair cascading down her neck and kissed her throat. She moaned throatily. She rubbed between her legs as I fucked her, fingering herself so hard I could feel her nails rapping on my cock.

When she came for the first time, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from coming too. I clamped the muscles in my cock hard almost at the same time as Felicity, purring like a cat, closed a hand around the base of my cock. "Just one more," she moaned.

She lifted herself off me, her pussy reluctantly releasing my cock with a slow sucking motion. She rolled me onto my back and climbed on top, balancing herself with one hand pressed hard into my shoulder. Her other hand she used to pump my cock. One, two, three, four long slow tugs on my foreskin. Then she wrapped her fingers just below the head of my cock and aimed it at her pussy.

Her pussy swaddled me in heat and wetness. I moaned as she slid down my cock; she arched her back and my hands went to her shapely breasts, my palms grazed by her hard little nipples. Felicity grabbed the headboard and leaned forward until her hair brushed my chest. My hands made wide circles around her pert ass, then squeezed roughly when she bit me hard on the neck.

She fucked me hard, the bed rattling against the floor to the rhythm her pussy set. Felicity began to moan, softly at first, then louder and louder with each bang of the bed. Someone knocked loud on the wall, but she didn't seem to notice. I just lay more or less still, lifting myself off the bed a little so that I was thrusting in sequence with her, her labia just kissing my balls with each stroke. I stroked the soft skin of her back, and tousled her hair. "Come with me," she said. "Come inside me."

She began to clench her pussy with each stroke, so that each stroke ended with a slow squeeze of my cock. The force of her fucking had worked us up the bed, so that I was now sitting with my back against the headboard and she was in my lap, legs wrapped around me, heels pressed firmly into me. I could feel her nipples tickling the sparse hair on my chest. I kissed her roughly, our tongues duelling.

She came in four long slow strokes. "Oh. My. Fucking. God." I came on the last stroke, gasping through a suddenly dry mouth. She lay sprawled on top of me as our bodies cooled. I could feel her sweat dripping down her forehead, off her chest to splash on me. My cock softened slowly until finally it slipped out of her cunt. "That was great," I said.

***

"Well, I mean, how much would I have to, you know, show?" I asked.

Tom stroked his chin once and half smiled. "That depends on you. You'd have to show your breasts and ass. And you'd have to have a few shots where you were taking your panties off, though you wouldn't have to show your pussy, or even your bush. Just pose with it covered by your hand, or turned away."

"But I'd get..."

"Yeah, you'd get more money if you showed everything. Even more if you do the extra stuff."

"And that doesn't mean fucking someone?"

"No," Tom said. "He's not interested in that. Just a bit of masturbation, maybe some toys. He sometimes has me shoot two girls together, but not until they've... gained a following, shall we say? Even then it's just kissing and a little bit of breast play."

When Tom first told me he occasionally took photographs for a friend of his who ran an erotic photography website I didn't quite get what he was suggesting. Truthfully, I was a little turned off, and Tom had to do some smooth talking to convince me that, no he wasn't exploiting the girls and that, no he didn't finish each photo shoot coming on the tits of some twenty-something moron.

But the bills kept pouring in, until I found myself standing in Tom's elegantly furnished living room, wrapped in his blue silk dressing gown. "Just a few test shots," I'd told him. "See what it's like."

Under the robe I was wearing a tank top and a pair of cut-offs that more or less covered my asshole. Under those were a pair of sheer blue panties that were slightly transparent in front, so that when the light was just right you could see the colour and shape of my bush. The bra I had on matched the panties, blue and slightly transparent. I was surprised to find my nipples were hard.

I'd agreed to show my pussy in the shoot, but not split. I wouldn't spread my cunt lips, and I wasn't going to finger myself. I threw the robe onto the floor and walked into camera frame. I started posing, doing pantomimes of the pictures in fashion magazines, pouting my lips and fixing my face disdainfully.