Pussy-Licer: Pussy-Licer Squad

We speed to wherever and whenever there is a needy, neglected or unappreciated pussy that requires intimate oral attentions...

'Today, I am your designated Pussy-Licker. I have no other identity. I am your Pussy-Licker.'

We are naked. I'm lying on my back on the bed. You straddle me, knees spread and braced either side of my body, sitting your weight down on my chest. You inch yourself forward gradually, moving upwards, towards my face, teasing. You're looking down at me. You know that I want you with a ravenous hunger. Lifting yourself, holding yourself above my face, so I can see every detail of you, yet must lift my head and extend my greedy tongue. Straining to reach upwards to you, my tongue-tip rippling along your pussy-lips, from the cute front-opening, tracking all the way back to the puckered kiss-hole of your anus.

You sink slowly down onto me, my tongue eagerly parting your pussy-lips, slipping between, seeking the moistness I crave, running up and down the fleshiness, loving the sensation of you, your wet warmth, your intoxicating fragrance, the taste of your vaginal juices on my tongue. Quivering my tongue-tip, then zigzagging the flat of my tongue gorging into you, circling the delicious morsel of your clitoris, then thrumming it hard. My tongue slipping down, tracing your cunt-mouth, probing inside deep, deeper, wanting more. Wishing for a longer tongue that could flick and flex further.

You crush down onto me, jerking your hips, fucking my face, losing control, using me, rubbing your clit hard on my nose as I lap-lap-lap. My hands come up around your hips, holding you, pulling you down onto me. Your delectable pussy enveloping me, my face wet with your juices. Now using my lips around your clit, sucking you into my mouth, pulsing you in and out.

You know I'm loving this. You can see just how aroused I am, hard and achingly erect, dribbling shimmery pre-cum onto my gut in my eagerness. So close that just one single touch would tip me over the edge. I want to make you cum. Want to hear your breath racing, the groan in your throat. I want to feel you cum up against my mouth, up against my face. Feel you convulsing, your pussy contracting around my trapped tongue in spasms, feel you smothering down onto me until there's nothing else, nothing but orgasm...

Later, when we kiss, you will taste your own cunt on my tongue... this is just the beginning... Now roll over, lie on your stomach with your legs slightly parted, so I can lick my way around the curves of your bare bottom, trickling my tongue down the cleavage, all the way down between the parting of your legs, to the puckered little kiss-hole there awaiting my attentions... Can I run my tongue around that very special little hole until it glistens...? Please, may I insert my tongue into that tight little opening...? Please grant me your permission...'

You are my special treat. You mesmerise my senses. I confess... bashful, scared to admit, but I had a number of very pleasurable erections during the night, just thinking about you, your body, your nipples, your delicious succulent pussy, slipping my tongue inside your most secret places... wishing I had an anteaters tongue to enjoy you yet more deeply... I hope that confession doesn't offend? But it's impossible to deny that your erotic magic reaches out and touches my cock in the most sensual and intimate way. What are your reactions to that? How do you respond...?'

Of course, it's not really her fault. Not really.

In fact, Shelley is exactly the kind of woman the project had been devised to serve. It's just that... her extreme needs exceed our capacity to deliver.

For all of your life, girls have been taught and socially conditioned to be sexually selective, not to part your legs, not to allow your dress to ride up, not to allow your nipples to show through your blouse, always to be modest and discrete on the beach, don't show too much cleavage, avoid getting a reputation as 'loose', don't put out on a first date... all these behavioural constraints that repress quite healthy and natural desires. I can understand that there must be a feeling of intense liberation - just for one evening, to reject all of that, just be naked on your back, legs spread, answering that primal raw need to simply be pleasured.

Frustrated desire is a terrible thing. If truth be told, there's more unhappiness around than surface impressions would lead us to believe. There are so many sad and repressed people out there who have regrets and aching voids in their lives. Perhaps through unreasonable fidelity to an unresponsive, uncaring or neglectful partner. Perhaps through loyalty to the memory of a deceased lover. Or simply through social fear of some terrible religious retribution to be inflicted on those they deem sinners. It's sad that there's so much gender discontent and unhappiness. And sure, I know there are creepazoids and weirdos lurking behind some online ads who can spring unpleasant pervy things on their victims, you've got to be careful, but some of us are genuine and on the level and only wish to provide some no-strings erotic fun.

I catch my reflection in her mirror. No Adonis, that's for sure, but I'm in reasonably good shape, considering. Coming out of a messy divorce and a spell of alcoholism. My wife came home unexpectedly early from a shopping expedition with her friend to find me on the marital bed sixty-nining with Maria, the Hispanic housemaid. There are some people - all the way up the White House, who don't accept oral sex as evidence of adultery. My vindictive wife's lawyers thought otherwise. Strange how quickly she found the supportive presence of a younger male companion to help her enjoy her alimony. I took it hard. Booze helped ease the pain. But now I have a new motivation in my life.

I'm a founder-member of the Rapid Response Pussy-Licker team, a small dedicated group of cunnilinguists set up and staffed by eager and enthusiastic volunteers, who are routinely health-tested and vigorously trained in order to speed to wherever and whenever there is a needy, neglected or unappreciated pussy that requires intimate oral attentions - regardless of the age, race or physical condition of the woman involved. As a precaution, there will only be pussy-licking, the woman involved need feel no sense of threat or obligation to do more than simply lie back with legs spread and enjoy. This is a free public service accessible to those most in need. We aspire to become simply another emergency service, like fire-fighters, lifeboat rescue, or paramedics.

We believe that, at the end of a hard working day every woman deserves a warm friendly face to sit upon...

We get the call. Shelley's house is set back from the road. The garden is just a little untended and overgrown. As a widow, I guess her husband had done all the outside work. Her hair is tinted, although the tint has faded. She's a little overweight. Pushing the wrong end of her fifties. She's wearing a floral housecoat.

'You put in a call to us' I say. 'I'm from Pussy-Licker Squad.'

She glances nervously this way and that, as though she's scared the neighbours might be watching. 'In that case, I suppose you'd best come in. You want a drink first?'

'No Ma'am, thank you Ma'am. I have other appointments. Best if we just... begin?'

She's nervous. She's regretting she made that call. She leads the way down the hall in a kind of fidgety shuffle. There are faded family photographs in frames hung on the wall. The bedroom lights are dimmed. There's a ruby scarf draped over the light-stand, casting the room into a low bordello gloom.

She stands up against the bed, turns to confront me... like she's Marie-Antoinette facing the guillotine. 'I've not been with a man, not since my Jacques passed' she says hesitantly, 'he was a good husband and provider, a hard worker, but he was never what you might describe as a 'passionate man'. He was the kind of man who'd rhyme clitoris with 'what is it?' It's just that lately I've been getting these... stirrings, you understand? Regret for things I've never done, never experienced. And then I saw your online notice. I thought 'why not'? I guess I was being foolish. Perhaps we should simply pretend this episode never happened. Of course, I'll refund your travel expenses, and you can just go.'

'Don't worry lady. Take it easy. I'm here to help you. Trust me.'

She drops her housecoat, half-reluctantly, self-consciously, inch-by-inch. At the same time she reclines backwards onto the rich bed coverlet, like a sacrificial victim in a cult movie. Her over-generous breasts spill left and right. Her pubic bush is greying, but still profuse. When I crouch and move in between her parted legs she flinches as she feels my breath warm on her skin. 'Relax' I say, adopting my smoothest more reassuring tones, 'nothing's going to happen that you don't want to happen.'

As Marie-Antoinette might not have said, 'let them eat pussy.' I kiss the inside of her right leg, she winces as though my touch is electrified, then I move across to the inside left leg. So close to her pussy now I can see every fleshy crinkle, and catch its delicate fragrance. I kiss the raised pubic mound. She's tense. I feel her tension. Then I run the tip of my tongue gently all the way down that cleavage, and I feel her exhale. Lifting my head again I repeat the tongue stroke, adding a little extra pressure so that the labial lips are eased apart in response, and zigzag my tongue from side to side on the way down. She tastes rich.

I hear her groan. With my fingers I now open her lips, and use my tongue to lash the fleshy inner walls, down to the vaginal orifice, and up... carefully circling the little clitoral morsel, in a teasing way. I hear her gasp as the tension leaves her body. The first tongue-flicks caress at her clit, and she's moving her hips in a sensuous fucking-motion, up against my mouth. I clamp my lips around her pussy, and suck the clit, and suddenly there's a flood of moisture, and she's bucking. My finger-tip circles her cunt-mouth. Slides in as far as the first knuckle, until she's comfortable with the penetration, then slipping more in, curling upwards, as I furiously tongue-lash her clit, breaking every now and then to slurp in a vulgar way up and down the full fleshiness of her. I'm holding her now, because she's heaving, fucking herself into my face, all control gone, a series of little gasping groans. My own body reacts, stiffening despite myself. And, almost too soon, she gives a strangulated series of sharp gasps, her pussy convulses and quivers, tightening in contractions around my trapped finger as she cums. I lick more gently, my finger still inside her, kissing that delicious orifice which is the core of life.

I don't lift my head until she relaxes back onto the bed. 'Wow! That was GOOOOOOD!' she says, her voice all breathy. 'All these years I never knew just how good it could be.'

I stay crouching. Lean in to kiss her pubis, feeling the hair against my lips. My work here is done...

She is fussily attentive, profusely grateful, but I take my leave, politely but firmly. Then, threading my way back through traffic towards operations central, I get a priority call from Zenna. Thumbing it on. The location is a few blocks west of here. I signal that I'm close and will answer the summons, taking the next sharp turn. Checking the satnav readings, it's an old brownstone apartment block. Pulling up outside I saunter across to where the stoops lead up to the entrance steps.

There's an impressive black woman in a tight maroon dress leaning up against the doorjamb, maybe a year or so younger that Shelley, but with attitude. She looks me up and down, appraising me. 'You the responder?'

'Yes Ma'am, thank you Ma'am.'

'You'll do. Follow me.' She turns on her spike-heels without a second glance and heads inside, not even checking to see if I'm following. I follow. Inside is cast into a drab twilight. There's muffled music pulsing behind doors. We climb a flight of steps and up onto the corridor above. There are dead bulbs set into the ceiling. There's an aerosol spray of graffiti on the wall. The aroma of ancient cooking that has seeped into the plaster. She pauses outside a door and raps three times. A pause, a spy-hole winks, and the door is opened by another black woman. I'm ushered inside. There's slow R&B playing low on the radio. A widescreen hi-def TV is playing some Reality Show with the sound down. There's a heady aroma that might be joss-sticks. On a bed laid thick with towels there's a third, older woman, somewhat heavier than the other two. I'm a little uneasy. Not sure if this is actually the scenario the squad was set up to deal with.

The woman who met me at the stoops chuckles slyly, 'what you think of him girls?' And they whoop with delighted laughter. She turns to me. 'I'm Shirl. My friends are Vanessa and Maybelline. You think you can handle this, Boy? We have this situation here. We have guys who just adore getting their big cocks sucked on a regular basis, and naturally, we are more than happy to oblige our men. We are not ungenerous. But just once in a while a little... reciprocation, would be appreciated. You hear what I'm saying? Our lady-parts enjoy intimate oral ministrations too.' She stretches out the word into a convoluted innuendo, 'min...eye... stray... shones.'

I gulp. 'Yes Ma'am. Of course.'

To answering sniggers. The three get up and begin circling me in a predatory fashion. Vanessa, or is it Maybelline? begins tugging at my belt-buckle. 'We'd best these clothes offa you first, 'cos Vanessa is a squirter... ain't you girl?' The heavier lady, Vanessa, pulls a vulgar slurping expression. 'And we don't want to think of you getting your purty clothes all wet 'n' stuff, do we?'

Before I get chance to protest my buckle is open, she's deftly yanking my zip down, and they're helping each other tug my Levis down and off, as Shirl is equally busy hauling my T-shirt up and over my head. I feel vulnerable and helpless as they delight in undressing me. Once I'm naked Vanessa lifts my balls in the palm of her hand as though she's critically weighing fruit at the corner store, evaluating their potential, causing my cock to twitch and pulse.

But Shirl is already pulling her own red lace panties down, lifting her leg to gracefully step out of them, as her friends jostle me towards the bed, pushing and shoving me down onto my back. I can see now why the towels have been positioned in just such a way. As she pounces up over me, breathtaking in her hungry eagerness, her legs straddle my chest, she lifts her dress up over her thighs. Urged on by her friend's raucous encouragement she settles her open pussy down across my face, wriggles and squirms herself down firmly to envelop me, as I open my mouth and flick-flicker my tongue up ready to receive her. Already I can see nothing but ebony flesh, her slippery wetness demands my attention. She grinds herself down as I locate her clit. She's rocking and rolling on my face. I can hear her groaning 'Yes, Oh Yes, Oh Yes.'

Then, just as abruptly, she lifts herself up off me, leaving me gasping and floundering like some air-drowning fish. And Vanessa takes her place. She sits the other way, facing my feet, rubbing and slithering her pussy over my nose and mouth. I feel I'm suffocating in flesh, despite any considerations of decorum my cock is fully burningly erect, swaying and jerking as she rides me. The sensations roar through my body like erotic tsunami's, the pulsing throbbing urgency totally out of control, and spontaneously I'm cumming in long white streaking jets up my naked stomach, to whoops of laughter from the girls.

But I'm not allowed a moment's respite before Maybelline straddles me and I'm licking her pussy in a blur of excitation, her big breasts lolloping and bouncing as she rides me, the wet sounds of moist slurping fill the room. They take turns, joking and taunting, groaning and cursing in explicit obscenities. Shirl crouches down to watch as I lick Vanessa. Then they both come in close to watch as I lick Maybelline, my tongue buried up deep into her cunt. They're all naked now, giggling and squealing, their discarded clothes in an untidy pile on the floor. I've never before been subject to such a ravenous avalanche of female flesh, demanding, demanding. And yes... Vanessa is a squirter, my face is streaming with her wine. The towels are an absolute necessity. Normally, I adore a pussy that squirts at climax. It's her way of telling me I've given pleasure. First one pussy cums, then the other. By the time I've brought Shirl off, Vanessa is ready for a second bout, as Maybelline lifts my messy cock carefully from where it lies pulsing across my gut and squeezes it in an encouraging way. For these girls, one cum is never enough.

By the time I'm finally permitted to leave I stagger and lurch jelly-legged back to my car and sit for several moments simply getting my breath back. Eventually I'm sufficiently recovered to drive unsteadily back towards operations central. In truth it consists of a couple of adjoining office rooms up a flight of steps in an otherwise unused block, the lease donated by a sympathetic well-wisher.

Cheetham is already there in the reception room, his feet up on the coffee-table, he's picking his teeth with a straightened-out paperclip. He's another of the founder members of our chapter. A jovial unprepossessing man of mid-years, his hair is already thinning, but he's passionate about our mission. He grins as I climb the stairs and emerge. The carpet is more than a little threadbare. There's a dusty TV on the wall-unit showing a ballgame. Across from it there's a shelf of well-thumbed books and magazines beside the coffee percolator, and an empty pizza-box on the table.

When he catches the cunt-perfume on my skin as I pass him, Cheetham gives a deep knowing laugh. And sure, I detect the aftertaste of vaginal-wine on my tongue and the pussy-aroma on my face. I grab a shower, then pour myself a strong coffee. I can see through the communicating slide-window that Zenna is crouched over the laptop in the annex-room, monitoring the website for incoming calls. She's the project coordinator, her hair coiffed into tight bangs, like Carrie Fisher in the first 'Star Wars' movie. There's another side-room where a couple of new recruits are being put through their paces with a big wall-chart diagram of female genitalia and an onscreen video. A big close-up of the clitoris. Nature's one gift designed purely to give pleasure. In evolutionary terms, it has no other function. Of course, theory has its limitations. There's only so much they can learn from diagrams and video. There's nothing to match rehearsals on a real living, breathing vagina.

'They've been putting you through it?' Cheetham leers.

'All in the line of duty' I grin back as I slump down onto the battered couch besides him. 'How about you?'

He leans back into the upholstery. 'Well... I did have a strange one today.'

I remember how he'd spoken during our inaugural meeting. 'I believe we all have a purpose in life. And I think I am finding mine. I've been sent to bewitch otherwise sensible women with my tongue, with my open sexuality and sensuality. Why does sex have to be so complicated...? It's such a simple and mutually-pleasing thing. Yet we assume guises and personas to conceal our hurt and needs. These urges should not be suppressed and denied, they need some kind of expression. Sometimes acting these scenarios out - even through surrogates, can be cathartic. Sex should be a joy, why would anyone want to objectify and demean those who choose to please each other orally?

'Pussy is delicious. Pussy is a gift to be enjoyed' he'd enthused. 'Pussy is designed for pleasure, to be licked and tongued and worshipped. I adore pussy. A thing of wonder. A perfect part of the female anatomy. Back in the early days of the Porn Movie industry, they supposedly employed 'Fluffers', girls whose oral expertise and powers of stimulation ensured that the male Porn stars were always erect and ready to perform as required. A lesson, incidentally, that those who make today's internet Porn should take to heart! Nothing I hate to see more than a limp dick at a Porn shoot, it just shows complete disrespect for the lady performer. But I wonder if they also employed male Pussy Primers to ensure that the female Porn Stars were equally lubricated and aroused, by licking and tonguing them until they were moist and penetration-ready? It's certainly a role that would be hugely pleasurable and rewarding for the lucky male 'Fluffer' participant, licking and tonguing several pussy's a day prior to shooting. I don't know what kind of payment that position would involve... but whatever it was, I would gladly pay it!'