sweet tart

Donny is a kid.

I am his candy store.

Ever since he learned to make me come with his tongue, Donny wants to give me head. Last Saturday afternoon, he came over and pushed me back on my bed.

“I’m dirty.” I said.

He smiled and started pulling off my jeans. “I want to lick your pussy,” he said.

“I’m a dirty little skank. I haven’t showered since yesterday.”

He laughed and pulled my jeans off.

“I smell.” I said. “Let me go wash.”

“No.” He said. “I know you’re uncomfortable with me licking you when you’re not clean. And that’s why I’m going to do it. Lie back and spread your legs.”

I did as I was told. I came. He conquered.

The other night, as we were leaving the restaurant, Donny again told me he wanted to lick my pussy. I am candy to him.

When he came into my bedroom, I had already taken off my pants and was waiting for him, on top of my bed, thighs spread.

“Good girl.” He complimented me. Then even before kissing my mouth, he peeled off my panties, placed a pillow under my hips and began licking my pussy lightly and methodically.

I felt my body start to respond, almost against my own volition. My hips started rocking back and forth, meeting his tongue as it swept from my clit to my vagina and back again. With one hand, I spread apart my pussy lips for him, and I could feel how wet he’d made me. His finger inside me, Donny intensified his licking, pausing to suck gently on my clit.

I could hear my ring clicking against his teeth.

I started to think about this conversation I’d had with this woman online last summer, during SlutFest 2004. This very girl-next-door blonde with big tits and wide Olsen-twin eyes, she wanted to have her man fuck me, and then lick his come out of my pussy. For myriad reasons, safety being foremost, I couldn’t do that in real life, but in the polyvaliently perverse and fecund imagination, anything goes.

So in my head, Donny’s tongue became hers. And I imagined I was telling the story to Donny, even as he was licking me. It was sort of a creamy, flaky napoleon of fantasies.

My hips moving, I was getting really close to coming. I could feel that hot hot red rush of pre-orgasmic bliss washing over me, and Donny paused.

“Ask permission to come.” He said.

“Please, please let me come.” I moaned; trying my best not to come, I felt my orgasm build. “Please. I’m going to come. Let me….” My voice sounding strained and guttural. My fingers clenched Donny's free hand with the white knuckled strain of not-coming-YET.

“You may come,” he said. And I did.

And he praised me for being a good girl. And I liked it. A lot.

And then he fucked me. Hard. And praised me. And I came again. And he called me a good girl.

And I liked that even more.

Comments

[mike]

praise is indeed a wonderful thing

[KCGeezer]

Didn't I read earlier that you'd previously embraced your submissive and then released her? Sounds like Donny has brought home the prodigal sub.