We pass inside easily, the doorman recognising Sophie in her stunning yellow dress and matching hair. I have little doubt that Sophie's appearance was the talk of many, if not all, of the men that night and indeed many of the more adventurous women too - she was a stunner, with her golden hair bouncing in perfect waves and her soft milky skin complimenting her yellow dress in a way that I could never do with my imperfectly penetrated skin of freckles and blotches. Though I am a red head and one possessing of fire of the body, my skin looks more to have been burned by that fire than to be a channelling vessel for it.
Inside Sophie's male friend is waiting at a table, and I must admit here that, despite the fact that I am, devout and true, at heart a lesbian, this man is one I would happily have bedded had my inclinations been even slightly misaligned that night. He is tall, dark and gorgeous, elegant in the extreme with a flowing suit of silk and wool and a perfectly pressed underclothing that would perhaps be a true shame to tear from his finely toned body. He stands as we approach and as he reaches out a strong, perfectly groomed hand to take mine, I feel my fingertips nearly compress to oblivion inside his already delicate and gentle grip. Unlike most of the other men I have met before, he takes my hand and kisses it, something I do not expect him to do. His lips, far from rough and untasteful, are as soft as his hands, tender and warm, and the kiss he imbues on my wrist is one I can still feel to this day, a ringlet of warmth that I find myself vowing to return to him around his own precious mortal keepsake should I agree to accompany him and his this night.
Sophie takes me to my seat and is kind enough to sit me, sliding the chair in underneath me as though I am the only woman of the group and she, like her partner, is a man, serving me in a way that a man would if he has hopes of later bedding a woman. I am impressed, I must say, and Sophie is nonplussed over the action, sitting herself next to me and smiling graciously at me. Her smile is full of tooth and not a single one is even a half-millimetre out of place, each one glowing like a perfectly whitened tombstone of flawless marble. Sophie's face is only parted at all by the painstakingly applied mark of dark maroon lipstick that adorns her youthful lips, lips I find myself staring at far too long. They move with a perfect motion that defies any elastic object, skin or otherwise, and not even her wide half-moon on its side-of-a-smile is enough to break even the slightest of cracks in her meticulous makeup. However Sophie does herself, she did it that night with pride and effort, and it shows. Sophie has not even a hair out of place on her head, a phrase I had until that point only ever found myself using in description, as a metaphor for perfectionism, rather than, as I see before me in Sophie, a literal embodiment of the word.
Our dinner comes and Sophie and I share a large serving of the highest quality seafood, trying our best to remain decent and polite when slurping ungracefully on shell-prepared muscles and prawns. Each of us is served a generous cocktail delicately alighted with prawn, spices and fruits, and though I do find the concoction even now to sound like a rather distasteful experience, the serving was the most divine preparation of food I have ever experienced. When I did indeed finish myself off, and when Sophie had done the same, I downed the watery remains of my cocktail with her, sharing a short but heartfelt giggle with her when, in unison, we both lose a little out the sides of our exceedingly wide glasses. Sophie in her infinite perfection manages to spill only a few drops on the tablecloth, while I, curse my luck and my God-given bodily gifts, am unable to avoid losing a little of the taste-filled drink down the cleft of my bosom, a place I hate to admit it must stay until I am once more in the comfort of my own company.
Our finished plates are taken and we lean in, finally time at last to talk business. Our conversation is short and the demure Sophie is not fazed in the slightest when, nervously but solidly, I place my desires on the table for them to consider. Indeed, it is almost as though Sophie grins a little when I name my requests, for she casts a look at her partner and mouths something I am unable to decipher despite having stared at her maroon-tinged lips the entire time. Indeed I find myself dreaming a little, floating off in the perfection of Sophie's infinitely intricate features as they silently exchange words.
A decision is reached and they both accept my bargain. Now it comes down to me - do I accept their requests? They are simple, and have made very few. It would require only a little altering of my ideals to allow for theirs in our evening, and since it had been so very long since I had felt a male in such proximity, I cannot help but admit my desires were somewhat swayed by my kinkish desire to experience more than what I had bargained for. The taste of Sophie is too close to let a single hitch presented by the simple addition of a male into the deal, and I find myself asking internally whether or not the extra interactions with him would not help to improve the experience rather than degrade it.
Their residence is only around the corner from our dining location and within five minutes I am inside and being ushered upstairs, once again led by the warm fingertips of Sophie up their elegant staircase. Before long, she is sitting me on the bed, a grand, super-sized affair of silken red and gold sheets and unendingly soft weaving. I am hesitant to ruin the no doubt incredibly expensive upholstery but Sophie assures me it is nothing and should not be given a second thought, and, obeying her wish with what I can only describe as a confusingly driven joy, I proceed to undress and reveal myself to her. Sophie does the same before me and as I cast my previously precious and delicate clothing aside, I behold Sophie in a way that few, I feel, have ever beheld such beauty.
Sophie is stunning. With soft white skin all across her form and a tiny, sumptuous waist, Sophie's bosom is perky and youthfully proud, standing aloft from her tiny frame with pride, capped at their snowy peaks with tips of diamond-hard pinkness. With an almost artistically-perfect drawn bellybutton, Sophie's stomach is toned and features the gentle lining of a woman whose body is trained to strength, someone not afraid of hard work. Looking further down, I behold Sophie in her nudity, and I must admit I believe I audibly gasped at her, for beneath her perfectly flat front, Sophie's most precious of areas is hairless and clean, without a mark or spot in sight. It is absolutely glorious, milky white as the rest of her but edged in a warmer frame of darker shadow where her hair should be growing, as though it marks the runway for any godly engine approaching her body's sacred landing strip. As Sophie sits herself on the bed, her round behind spreading even more under her, Sophie's legs part and inside her pillowy thighs I see her doors open for me and excite me in a way that not even my own can. Below it, buried in the darkness of her glorious buttocks, I can just make out the hint of her rosebud, soft and tender and sacred.
In a word, she is breathtaking. Sophie's inner womanhood glints at me, the slightest hint of preparative leakage adorning her pink lips as she spreads herself impossibly wide on the bed, inviting me in, beckoning me to drink in her heavenly form. I do so, approaching with trepidation, kneeling as I feel I should before her. She is glorious to touch, warm and electric, and even the act of touching her brings a jolt of electrifying intensity surging through my own skin, sending my hairs alight and my body coursing with joy. I lean in, my far less worthy form prepared to do its best to satisfy this goddess before me on the bed. I know I must seem hesitant, for in her infinite wisdom Sophie guides me with a gentle hand on my hair, lusciously licking her fingers through my infuriating red locks and ever so slightly leaning me forward, doing for me what I almost cannot bring myself to do. Watching as I approach her entrance by her guiding hand, I can already smell her musk and the odour is an intoxicating blend of Sophie's preciously unique scent and my own nervous sweat.
And like that I touch her, nose to the edge of her hood. She is warm, warmer here, her core heating the both of us up as one. I place my hands tenderly on the tops of her thighs for stability, and as I feel her jolt slightly she giggles and tells me my hands are cold. I want to draw them away, but Sophie takes them in her own, tells me to keep them there, and, I must admit as I touch her I see a front-seat view of her deepest of zones tensing up slightly, closing around an object that isn't there, pulsating from the inside as though my breath itself was seeping deep into her and giving her sexually stimulating contractions. It is intoxicating to see, another woman's sacred hole clenching, moving, alive and real, waiting for me to touch it, to help it feel more, to give it the sensual bliss it so desires.
I decree to give it to her womanly cave, as best I can.
Without another thought I bury my nose in Sophie and immediately she seems to recoil. I hear her head fall backwards and her thighs close around me a little, so I loop my arms around her legs and grip her as I begin to lick and nibble at her. She is delicious, like no other woman I have ever tasted, sweet and juice-filled, as though her very flesh is seeping tender droplets of her out into my mouth. I gorge myself, wrapping my lips around her smooth, perfectly shaved cave, suckling on her as much as I can and engulfing her vaginal lips in my own, mauling them with my tongue and cheeks and eliciting a gloriously satisfying moan from her on the bed so very arousing that it seems to excite my own womanly parts without any touch from her. She falls to the bed and I double my work, penetrating as far into her as I can with my tongue, feeling every single rib and ripple inside her in infinite detail. I think to myself as I eat at her that this experience is much different from the sexless, inglorious masturbation I satisfy myself with most nights - here, I am watching, tasting, smelling her react to me, feeling it on my face and tongue, hearing her moan as I work, watching everything I do inside her bring out a reaction I can only feel vaguely with my hand on my own. It is like seeing inside oneself while they feel the throes of intercourse, and I find it addictive.
Behind me I hear the door open and close, and assume correctly that it is Sophie's partner entering. She looks up and sees that it is, and I sense his mass behind me as I continue my work without stopping. Before long I hear Sophie's breathing has shortened, and I see from her contractions and from the rolls and waves inside her fine stomach that she is nearing her peak. Thankfully, or perhaps unthankfully for Sophie, her partner enters and lifts me gently from my position between my goddesses knees. My face is slick with Sophie's sacred flavours and I let him lick some from my cheek, savouring as I had been Sophie's sweet taste. She sits up, her bosom rising and falling hypnotically, and beckons me onto the bed where I join her. She lies herself down and I join her, my bosom against hers, our hardened nubs pressed together. I can feel her on my chest and she can feel me, and as we wait for our masculine third to join us, we lock lips, kissing passionately, forcing tongues against tongues as I share with her own juices. She licks herself from my face, replacing the sticky juices of her sex cave with those of her mouth, something I do not mind in the slightest. even Sophie's tongue tastes like heaven itself and I cannot help myself but look down at her perfect features framed by her sprawling golden locks and fall in deep, irreversible love with her.
Behind me the male counterpart to the goddess underneath me and between me kneels behind me and rests a palm on my backside. I look back at him and behold an extensively elongated member dangling freely from his hand. It is enormous, bulbous at the point and thick down the length, dark and rigid and, I have no doubt, longer than my insides could reach. Nonetheless, he places himself against my entrance and begins to push and I turn my attention back to Sophie as I feel him enter me for the first time.
It is like I am being stretched from within. I have felt a man before, but this man expands me like no other. I feel every edge of my innards widening for him, stretching to the edge of pain, but only pure pleasure fills me as each individual ridge on him slides inside my overly tender lips and elicits hitches of bliss from me. Sophie laughs at this and kisses me, beginning to rub my teats in her hands. Not to be the disappointment of the party, I echo the action and grasp her perfect mounds, beginning to massage them, rolling them around and yanking in what I thought would be a painfully sexual jerk on her nipples. Sophie only groans a sexy little grunt of pleasure, so I continue, pulling and twisting her erect nubs in my fingertips. She enjoys this and so I hook my knees up close, raising my centre of balance and helping to tighten my passageway for my vaginal invader's pleasure - and for my own. He likes this and begins to pump me, his thick rod sliding easily in and out on my already well lubricated canal, his motion giving me pause as I feel, out of the blue, an orgasm of my own exploding to life, approaching with surprising speed. I have never managed to make myself come this quickly to the edge and I did not expect a male's length to bring me this - though I surmised Sophie had much to do with it too.
