Love Ann

I don't know what's on her mind, but for me this is a voyage of discovery. She just agreed a short time ago to come play with us. The thought has been exciting me since I let it. So we're here. Tommy is sitting quietly nearby. I think he's trying to be unobtrusive, but I can feel his eyes as a palpable thing. My pulse begins to race. I want to go slow, I want to know, to savor.

She stands before me, and our hands reach for each other's arms. Beneath my fingers, her skin is like steel covered in silk. The firm texture is so rich. We lean to kiss. It's a small thing, to start, closed lips, then building to a little nibble, and a little more. Tongues insinuate themselves between lips. Hers is like honey, sweet and young. Her breath is hot on my cheek. Our breathing accelerates. I kiss across her cheek and down her neck. My hands begin a roaming, a testing of the ground that lies beneath her clothing. So sweet. I pull her to me. It's a totally new sensation. The flare of hip, the curve of thigh, all so different. And the soft pillows of her breasts, tipped in excited hardness dig into mine, that sensitive flesh registering every contour.

Her hands slide up under my shirt, palms flat and teasing my nipples. My hands cup her smallness – a firmness I don't recall resides there. Now the voices are beginning to sing. Hers and mine voluntarily sigh from the sweet sensation that resides in touch. We step apart and shed our tops. From a little distance, our fingers trace lazy trails around the breasts, neck, and tease at nipples which stand out begging attention. Not to interrupt this tantalizing activity, we bend to lean into a kiss. This time, the lips are open from the start and the tongues play almost before our lips meet.

Mirroring the moves of the other, our hands slide around waists and pull our naked torsos into contact. Burying a nipple against her softness is like immersing them in hot water, every current of movement is an exquisite sensation. The electric connection is made and each movement sends a charge of pleasure into my clit. My hips surge at her body to be met by hers. She must be experiencing the same excitement.

Our hands insinuate themselves under clothes covering the wanting parts. Her buttocks are warm, and firm and flat. We pull each one to the other with handfuls of this flesh. The proximity to that wanting center drives my senses wild. There can be no separation now, we tug at fastenings and slide the offending cloth away from the sweet skin they cover. Our mons, slick and bare, slip against each other. This new sensation drags wanting gasps from our throats. It is so very different. Our bodies shift and strong thighs part legs, slipping between. Ah, a rubbing spot! Hips begin a gentle pulse against that convenience. Her wetness dampens my skin. The air touching it makes its coolness hot like a fire in the awareness of its source.

Hands shift again, this time parting the sweet lips that have driven this meeting. Slowly over that nub of her excitement my fingers pass, pausing only a moment to note the differences and the sameness. She is hard under that hood. Her lips are swelling and becoming hotter. My hand moves to the source of her wetness as hers finds mine. One finger slips over that skin so fine textured that it is like glass in this wet state. And then it slides into her. God! She's so hot. This feels so sweet. I reach for that spot, another finger joins the first. We are swaying with light-headedness, breath fast and furious.

As we move apart to settle on the bed, I see Tommy, his eyes alight, a flush spread up his throat and his maleness released and rampant. It makes me smile quietly and laugh in joy inside. He is enjoying the spectacle.

We gather each other anew and continue the explorations. My fingers can massage that lovely spot. It feels just as good to her as to me. I'm almost distracted as she finds mine and begins to drive my passions forward. Oh! God! It feels so good. We match strokes for a bit, and then slip over the edge into sweet oblivion, hips pulsing in time, pussy walls contracting, milking fingers like a cock. We stroke each other ever more gently, letting the intensity subside, the contractions lessen and, finally, cease.

With that orgasm taking the edginess from our bodies, we are free to explore. I bend to taste her nipples – foreign and familiar. I find that little spot on the flat face of them that, one with finger, one with tongue, drives her back to arch into me and the moans begin anew. Her hands furious with wanting dart here and there finally pulling me around to her mouth and placing mine at her waiting cunt.

On our sides, a leg cocked, heads pillowed on thighs, our tongues reach to taste. Another virgin barrier falls, and minds begin that concentrated journey up the ladder of pleasure. My tongue teases her lips. I taste another woman for the first time. Like and unlike my own. A slow, dragging tongue slides down her slit. Her upper leg pulls back further and she pushes her hips at my face. It is not conscious, just wanting. My hips are seeking the same; mimicking her motion. Hardening my tongue a little with each pass, her lips part a little more each time. The slick flesh puffy, and slippery – wet from her and wet from my tongue. Such sweetness. Finally, at the top of a stroke, my tongue finds her clit, and fingers gently probe her. I lift the hood with the tip of my tongue to find the hardness waiting. And her tongue finds mine. Again the bolts of pleasure course through me. The sandpaper tongue sends a ripple of sensation ripping through me, each little peak and valley of the tongue seeming to inject another pleasure jolt on top of the one before. Fingers find the g-spot and now there are competing intensities. I can hold no longer, sucking her clit into my mouth, my tongue passes furiously over it seeking my own release – harder, faster, breathing stopped to focus, every muscle tense in the seconds before the blackness and the stars. Then the crashing, shuddering release. Omigod, omigod.

When my eyes open, the object of my desire is poised, seeking its own release, selecting from a smorgasbord of tits and pussy and mouth. When did he strip? I can smell his familiar scent and it intoxicates me further. The bed dips under his weight as he joins the happy tangle. A hand on different breasts, touching, learning – the familiar and the new. We move and assault his cock with tongues from each, running the length of him. And the sweet taste of him mixes with hers on my tongue. Now he begins his ride up the precipice.

Our tongues play with each other across the head of his cock. His hands are busy, sometimes absently when intensity begins to dim his thought, pulling and tweaking at nipples – so different, so much the same. Her breasts small and compact, firm with youth, mine fluffy pillows of womanhood. His hands and fingers pull and knead, making of these little nobs rheostats measuring his rise and fall toward orgasm. Sometimes we pause in our play with him to kiss and fondle one another.

Finally we arrange ourselves so his hands may find our sopping centers while we kiss him and suck him and play with his balls with white hot mouths. We take turns slipping his cock into our throats as deeply as we might, each with a little different feel, a little different style and each trip down a throat rips from him a groan and a thrust. One hand on each pussy, fingers pumping and slipping in our wetness, he begins to drive us onward, onward. We cry and moan with him, our hips surge as his do. There is a surfeit of passion exploding in the room when I fall over the edge of yet another wave of ecstacy and she follows me. My darling is left seeking release his hips driving into nothingness as we trail our kisses away from his need, over his balls, and across the tender skin at inside tops of thighs and juncture of abdomen and leg.

Unceasing moans from him tell us of his exceptional desire for release. He is beginning to pull us toward him, his hands first on ankle, on thigh, pulling at waist. Softly in his moans I hear, “Now. Now. Oh, now.” And his abdomen tenses as he pulls himself up and begins his quest for a place.

As if by agreement, we kneel back to him, and then present our cunts to his desire – slim and boyish, full and voluptuary, both red, swollen and glistening with the moisture of shared lust. He sinks his maleness first into one, stroking, once, twice, and again. Then he pulls back to assault the other, again plunging himself in long, hard strokes. His hand holds one hip to steady himself, the other hand plays cock to the empty pussy before him. Our hands stroke each other’s clits making it uncertain whether to push back on his hand or cock or thrust forward on the deliciousness at the front. Head back, eyes aglow, he makes the journey between the two twice and the last assault rips him from his savoring of this delight, plunging him into a yelling, groaning ejaculation, his thrusts calling from him a new call with each stroke. Hard still he plunges into the other to milk his seed and sate his desire. Our voices mix with his as he drives us once again to clenching, writhing spasms of delight.

Omigod, omigod, omigod.

Again we are bludgeoned into a sweet, delighted torpor. We pet and stroke as we rest, trailing tickling fingers across yet-sensitive skin, shuddering with release. Our breaths slow, hammering hearts return to peaceful pace and we recover.

Smoldering eyes and smiles seem to lie everywhere in this tangle of flesh and limbs. My love seems buried in female flesh and watches with fondness to see what will next occur.

Smiling, first at him, then at her, I reach into the toy drawer and bring forth ....