Sinful Deceit (5 page)

"Don't stop,"
she whispered shakily as I continued to tongue and suck her swollen
clitoris. Her body becoming rigid, her breathing fast and shallow,
she was nearing her orgasm. Pressing my sex-juiced lips harder
against the firmness of her pubic bone, I drove my finger between
the soft petals of her inner lips and thrust it deep into her tight
shaft of desire. Her pussy juices flooding my hand as I pistoned
her love sheath and sucked and licked her clitoris, she finally
reached her sexual heaven.

"Kirsty!" she
sang as her orgasm erupted within her pulsating clitoris. "God,
Kirsty!" Sustaining her pleasure, bringing out the shockwaves of
her climax, I felt my own juices of lust coursing from my burning
pussy hole, my clitoris swelling in its yearning for relief.
"Kirsty!" she again wailed, my pistoning finger squelching the
juices of orgasm decanting from her inner fountain of love. "Oh,
God! Kirsty!"

I knew what
she wanted, I knew how to tease the ripples of sex from her
pulsating clitoris, expertly massage the hot inner flesh of her
drenched pussy sheath. Concentrating my massaging on her G-spot,
working my fingertip around the sensitive opening of her urethra, I
sucked and licked her throbbing clitoris until she convulsed in her
agonising pleasure. Trying to push my head away as her climax began
to subside, she sang out in her euphoria, unable to halt her
multiple orgasm from repeatedly peaking beneath my snaking
tongue.

"Please!" she
whimpered, her hands pushing on my forehead. "God, no more!"
Sucking the last ripples of sex from her inflated clitoris, I
slowed my pistoning finger to a gentle massaging rhythm. Gently
drifting down through billowy clouds of sexual ecstasy, she lay
quivering on the bed. She was done in her coming, satisfied in her
yearning. My finger withdrawing from the burning heat of her love
sheath, I moved down her juice-flooded valley of love and sucked
out her orgasmic juices. Drinking from the open hole of her vagina,
I swallowed her girl-nectar, draining her fiery sex cavern as she
twitched and gasped uncontrollably.

Lifting my
head, I gazed at the engorged folds of her pussy, the pink flesh
surrounding the entrance to her love duct. She was beautiful,
sensual, sexual in her femininity. I knew then that I wanted the
exquisite intimacy of a girl's vulva, not the hard masculinity of a
man's penis. Graceful, dainty, Sharon's curvaceous body held my
fascination. I never wanted her to leave me.

The front door
closing, I leaped off the bed and grabbed the remnants of Sharon's
panties as my mother called out. Sharon clambered off the bed and
swayed on her trembling legs as my mother's footsteps sounded on
the stairs. Our glazed eyes locked, our faces flushed, we stood
quacking in the aftermath of our loving. I was left yearning,
aroused beyond the point of no return. My clitoris ached for
Sharon's hot, wet mouth. My lubricious juices of lesbian desire
poured into the crotch of my panties. My mother had flown the nest.
And returned.

I woke to the
sound of torrential rain lashing at the window. Dreamily looking
around my bedroom, wondering whether the walls knew of my lesbian
act, I recalled fingering the warm sheath of Sharon's tight vagina.
I'd been a naughty girl. The walls had watched me in my vulval
licking, my vaginal fingering, my girl-loving. Where was Sharon?
Gone, fled. A heavy cloud hung over me. It was raining in my heart.
Was it raining in Greece?

I slipped my
hand beneath the quilt, between the hotness of my firm thighs. The
soft lips of my vagina were pouting with neglect. I was pouting in
my displeasure. My being left unloved, unfulfilled, was my mother's
fault. Why had she come home early and destroyed my lesbian loving?
I couldn't blame her. So who could I blame? In my anger, I needed
to rebuke someone. Sharon? No. She had given me her body in the
name of love and would have taken mine. David? My thoughts told me
that it was David's fault.

Lifting the
bedside phone, I dialled his number. My anger welled from deep
within as my frustration grew. David had been cruel, called Sharon
a slut. She was beautiful, sexual, sensual. I should have put David
behind me, left him in the swirling dust of my past. I'd made the
break once, torn free from his suppressive nature. I should never
have gone back to him.

David answered
his mobile. I could hear the car engine, the traffic. He was on his
way to work. The boring office which constituted his boring life.
Was he sulking? More than likely. He didn't like being late, he
didn't like the rain, he didn't like me ringing him when he was
busy or otherwise engaged, he didn't like... David didn't like
anything. In truth, he didn't like himself.

"Come round,"
I ordered him. I sounded severe.

"What, now?"
he asked irritably. He was always irritable in the mornings. He was
irritable in the evenings.

"Yes, now," I
said firmly.

"Kirsty, I'm
on my way to..."

"I know where
you're going, David," I snapped. I felt that I had to punish him.
"If you want to talk about the future, marriage and the patter of
tiny feet, then you'll come round now."

Feeling smug,
I hung up. The tables had turned, the worm had turned. I knew that
my mother was going out at nine. A dental appointment. She'd be an
hour or more, giving me time to punish David for being David. As I
lay waiting in my bed, I became incensed. I knew that it was wrong
to allow myself to become enraged. Anger, hatred, bitterness...
They gnaw at the soul like starving rats gnawing a lump of decaying
flesh. But I couldn't help but offer myself to the rats. David had
become the bane of my life. He'd always reproached me as if I were
a naughty child. He didn't want me to go on holiday. He became
resentful if I enjoyed myself. He didn't like me meeting people,
having fun. A wave of vengeance gripped me.

The doorbell
rang as if announcing the commencement of round one. The door
opened and closed. Muffled voices emanated from the hall, my mother
and David. Footsteps bounded up the stairs with urgency. David was
going to complain, moan and sulk. He was depressive, repressive. I
had to tell him once and for all, put an end to our farcical
relationship. My bedroom door opened and he marched into the room
as if he was walking into a sales meeting. His face unsmiling, he
stood at the end of the bed and checked his watch.

"Kirsty," he
said, his dark eyes locked to mine. "I'm going to be late for
work."

"I need to
talk to you," I returned. My mother called out. She was leaving.
"We have to talk about the future."

"Now?" His
face grimaced as if he was in pain. His nose always seemed too big
for his face when he grimaced. "Couldn't it wait until...?"

"I'm like
time, David." There was nothing I loved more than interrupting him.
"I wait for no one."

"What the hell
are you talking about? Look, I have to go. I'll see you this
evening."

"This is the
evening," I smiled.

"What?"

"This is the
evening of..."

"Are you
ill?"

"No, I'm not
ill. In fact, I've never felt better. I don't want to have to fit
in with your routine, David. You make me feel as if I'm a coffee
break to be fitted in between meetings. We talk now. Or never."

"All right,
all right," he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

I felt hatred
welling within my heart. The rats were gnawing at me. As I watched
him brush his dark hair away from his frowning eyes, I felt my
stomach knotting as my resentment built. I should have said nothing
more than goodbye, but my heart wanted revenge. Punish him? Apart
from telling him that we were finished, I had no idea how to punish
him. As he gazed at my breasts, the brown protrusions of my erect
nipples peeping at him over the billowing quilt, I knew how to
punish him.

David didn't
like women swearing, he didn't like tarts, he didn't like
promiscuity. In his boorish way, he liked things to be prim and
proper. David had always believed that men gave women orgasms.
Orgasms were a gift to women from mankind. He thought that I should
be somehow grateful for his attentiveness, for his making love to
me. In the early days when naivety had ruled me, I'd thought that
he'd brought me pleasure. The fact was that I'd brought him
pleasure.

"Stand next to
the bed," I smiled. I wanted to shock him. "I want to suck your
cock."

"What's
happened to you?" he asked. I hated his pained expression. "Kirsty,
you've never done that before."

"You're right;
I've never sucked your cock. There's a first time for
everything."

"But..."

"I want to
suck your knob. I want your knob in my mouth." My crudity excited
me.

"You've never
talked like this before. Our love making has always been..."

"Boring,
David. Our lovemaking has always been boring. Let's spice it up a
little, shall we?"

"I'm all for
that, but not now." He checked his watch again. "I have to go to
work."

I grinned and
licked my lips provocatively. "I want you to fuck my mouth," I said
huskily.

"Kirsty!"

"I want your
stiff cock fucking my mouth."

Pushing the
quilt down, I parted my thighs. My vaginal crack bared, opening in
my soaring arousal, I ran my fingertip up and down the length of my
wet girl-slit. David stared open-mouthed as I slipped my finger
between my glistening inner lips and drove it deep into my
tightening pussy. Gasping, writhing as I fingered myself, I
massaged the sensitive nub of my solid clitoris with my free hand.
He stood and walked to the side of the bed, his eyes reflecting
utter bewilderment as I blatantly masturbated before him. My juices
squelched invitingly. I was thirsty.

"You've never
been like this before," he murmured disbelievingly as my pussy-wet
finger repeatedly drove deep into my tightening love sheath.

"I've never
felt like this before," I breathed. "I want you to fuck my mouth as
you would my pussy."

"What the
hell's come over you?" he gasped. "Look, I have to go. We'll talk
tonight. Talk about... about the future."

Slipping my
sex-wet finger out of my hungry pussy, I unzipped his trousers and
pulled his erect penis out. "Don't you want me to suck your cock
and drink your sperm?" I asked him. I was a tart.

"Well, I...
This is ridiculous. You're supposed to be at work, for God's
sake."

"I want your
spunk in my mouth, David. I want you to fuck my wet mouth."

He shook his
head. "I don't know what's changed you, Kirsty," he sighed. "I
don't like you this way." His eyes locked to mine, he paused. "Have
you met someone else?" he finally asked. Gripping the base of his
solid penis, I answered only with a salacious grin. "You have found
someone else, haven't you?"

"Yes," I
have," I confessed. "I've found myself, David."

Pulling his
foreskin back, I exposed the purple plum of his knob. He looked
down as I pushed my tongue out and moved closer. I heard his heavy
breathing in the silence of the room. The tip of my tongue caressed
his swollen glans, played around his sperm slit. Warm, salty. I
felt a flutter of arousal ripple through my contracting womb. I was
in control now. No longer was he using me, I was using him. He
moved forward, his knob urgently seeking the wet heat of my mouth.
I moved my head back, allowing him only the pleasure of my tongue.
He began his gasping, his penis swelling and twitching within my
hand. He was about to receive his punishment.

"Do you like
fucking my cunt?" I asked. The expletives careered around my mind,
hurting me.

"Kirsty! What
the hell..."

"Don't you
like the word?" I looked up at him as I squeezed the solid shaft of
his penis. "Cunt. I like the word, cunt."

"Well, I
don't," he snapped.

"Fuck my
mouth, David. Think of my mouth as my cunt and fuck it hard."

Whatever his
thoughts, however disgusted he was with me, he eagerly pushed the
purple head of his penis deep into my wet mouth. Closing my eyes, I
sucked gently. My stomach somersaulted, my womb quivered.
Delighting in the experience, I ran my tongue over the velveteen
surface of his bulbous glans as he let out a long low moan of male
pleasure. Sinking my teeth gently into the veined shaft of his
rigid cock, I snaked my tongue over his purple knob, teasing him,
tantalising him.

His orgasm
would soon come. His penis would swell, his purple plum would
balloon and throb. He'd gasp, clutch my head in his sexual ecstasy
as he passed the point of no return. He'd watch my wet lips rolling
back and forth along his veined shaft, over the rim of his swollen
glans. His sperm would jet from his slit, gush in his orgasm. And,
with split-second timing, I'd punish him.

"God," he
breathed, rocking his hips and fucking my wet mouth. His silky
glans gliding over my snaking tongue, his shaft like granite, his
body became rigid. Breathing heavily, he took my head in his hands,
repeatedly thrusting his swollen knob in and out of my wet mouth as
his orgasm neared. "Coming," he finally gasped. I tasted the salt
of his sperm as the first globule of orgasmic liquid issued from
his slit. He shook in his ecstasy, gripping my head as he was about
to fill my thirsty mouth with his seed. His orgasm exploded, his
sperm coursing along his shaft towards his slit.

Pulling away,
I sat on the bed and watched his sperm shoot from his knob-slit in
long, pearly strands. His glazed eyes staring at me as threads of
sperm jetted from his glans, splattering the melons of my breasts,
he grabbed his penis. Working his foreskin back and forth over his
swollen knob, he grimaced in his coming. Gasping, his head hung,
his legs sagging, he brought out his sperm as I watched him
masturbate with glee in my heart. I'd never had my mouth fucked. I
wanted to suck his throbbing knob, fill my cheeks with his flowing
sperm. But my satisfaction was his dissatisfaction.