"Of course not," says Sarah, and turns her back on me. I hear the zip on her shorts opening, and suddenly they're around her ankles.
I stand and watch, lost for words. She is wearing boys' boxer shorts, slightly too big on her. They hide her curves baggily, apart from where they're wedged between the cheeks of her arse, before she drops them too. She bends over to slide them down her freckled, milk-white legs, which are skinny enough for me to see right up her crack as she does so. Her cunt is beautiful, young and tight and nicely shaped; its plump, moistly glistening lips are a striking shade of bright pink, the way ginger girls' sometimes are. More mauve than rosy, not a healthy pink; the tightly-puckered flesh around her arsehole is the same colour, and I bet her nipples are too.
She remains bent double for a moment, fussily slipping off her shoes and extricating her feet from the puddled shorts and underwear. An invitation? I take another look at her round, pink cunt and do what anyone would do in my position, assuming that they, like me, were chronically sex-deprived enough to let it override any iota of common sense they might possess. I kneel behind her and kiss her, right there between the tops of her legs. She gives a little murmur of approval, straightening up and shifting her hips so that she is perched upon my face as if it were a plain, thirty-something stool. She tastes of fish and sweat with a hint of piss and a tongue-coating chemical tang of deodorant. Gorgeous. I attack her labia and clit, tonguing them viciously, lapping up her fragrance.
"Oh," she says, deep in her throat, as I straighten my knees slightly, making her tilt forward. Her hands find the edge of the nightstand and she balances there, bent over slightly, head dangling upside down in an effort to see what I'm doing at her rear end.
What I'm doing is fumbling ineptly with the fastenings of my jeans, eventually getting them open and shoving them down around my knees; then my already sodden pants as well. I continue to eat her, making muffled sounds of effort and excitement as my mouth burrows into her soft, hot flesh. At the same time I am furiously wanking myself off, both my hands down between my fat, quivering thighs, one roughly kneading my hair-surrounded clit and the other trying to force its way inside my slobbering hungry twat. My big, pasty arse-cheeks bounce and slap together as I gyrate and grind like a sad, desperate singleton. Which I am, to be honest.
"Oh God..." moans Sarah, gripping the nightstand so that it rattles with our combined movement. "Oh...Go-od..." My tongue slithers and prods at her most sensitive place, stabbing her over and over between her slippery lips, plucking at the frills of her flesh with my lips, thoroughly exploring and defiling her humid female centre. I tease at her arse, pushing the tip of my tongue into the tight, resistant sphincter. It makes her gasp and arch her back, pulling away for a moment in surprise. I stop my self abuse to seize her hips and pull her back against me, mashing my face against her white, dimpled bum. Her skin is damp and hot as new-baked scones, slick with sweat.
"Ahhh-hhhh-hhh-hhh," Sarah groans in anguish, the nightstand banging against the wall as I hold her tight, ramming my tongue again and again against her clit, harder and harder, faster and faster. "Oh God...oh...fuck...oh fuck, oh fuck, oh...fff...ohh, ohh, oh, oh, ohohohohohohohohohOHOHOHOH!" Her whole body arches and trembles, spasms running through her. She threatens to break away from my grip and fall flat on her face, taking the nightstand with her, so I hold her tight. Tight enough to leave red finger marks on her pristine white bum-cheeks when I finally release her, when she has finished shaking and squealing and can stand again on her own feet for the moment that it takes her to sink to her knees on the threadbare carpet, panting hard enough for her whole body to move with every breath, every breath coming from somewhere deep in her breast, like a sob.
