She was just a student, an exhibitor in a fashion fair at the local art college. 18 years old, Indian, a waif almost a foot shorter than I, with short spiky gelled hair and a ring through one nostril. She cradled my hand as she admired my wedding ring, winking at my bored five-year old daughter, clutching my other hand. She softly brushed her fingers across my freckled cheek as she told me, in her common East London accent, what a lovely pale complexion I have, and what a beautiful bone structure. Would I consider modelling some stuff for her in an exhibition? It was for charity, how could I refuse?
Later, the whole thing seemed so ridiculous that, had I been able to contact her, I would have called it off. After all, why would a funky young girl, literally half my age, want me to show off her designs for her? But I didn’t even know her surname. So there I was, three days later, waiting for her to call round “to take a few measurements”.
It was all perfectly innocent, of course. In 12 years of marriage I had never so much as looked at another man, let alone even dreamed of doing anything with another woman. I was happy with my sex life: Paul and I made love twice a week, regular as clockwork, ten minutes of passion before he rolled over and went to sleep and I pulled my nightdress back down. Why, then, when he asked me over breakfast if I had any plans for the day, had I glanced away and said “Nothing special”?
After he left for work I walked my baby girl to school, then paced the house nervously, glancing out of my lounge window every five minutes. I still managed to miss her arrival, and I jumped when the doorbell sounded. I opened the front door and admitted Sureeta to my home. She wore a white cotton boob tube which exposed a sapphire navel piercing, and a matching loose fitting calf-length skirt with an elasticated waistband. Handing me her denim bomber jacket, she removed her Doc topkapı escort Martens to reveal tiny feet with purple-painted toenails and a silver ring on one toe of each foot. “Call me Ree. Are we going in here?”
She preceded me into the lounge and closed the curtains. Even as I was wondering what the neighbours would make of that she asked me, brisk and businesslike, to strip down to my underwear. I peeled off my designer T-shirt and jeans and stood self-consciously before her. She barely glanced at me as she reached into her carpet bag for a tape measure. Stepping behind me, she reached around my body and closed her small hands over my heavy breasts, plumping them up in my bra. Her body was pressed to mine, a musky fragrance filled my nostrils and I shuddered slightly as I felt, I was sure, her erect nipples poke into my back.
Ree passed the cold tape measure around my chest then my waist. Then I felt a finger enter the waistband of my silken thong panties behind me, as she pulled them higher on my torso. Gently she took one of my buttocks in either hand and eased them apart, allowing the thong to nestle deep between my cheeks. I shuddered again as I felt a finger stroke up the entire length of my bum crack, before she passed the tape around my hips.
Taking her time, enjoying the effect she was clearly having on me, and the sight of my nipples straining against the cups of my bra, she knelt before me. Her face was so close to the front of my dampening panties that I could feel her warm breath disturbing the strands of red hair which peeped out from the material. Wordlessly she placed her hands on my inner thighs and eased my legs further apart. Taking the tape measure she placed it against my leg. In doing so the knuckles of her hand ‘accidentally’ pressed firmly into my crotch. I gasped and, feeling my legs buckle, placed a supporting hand on Ree’s shoulder.
All pretence at an fatih escort end, she rose from her crouch, flipping her hand so that it was now her finger tips which pressed against my labia around the flimsy material of the thong. She took a hank of my hair in her other hand and pulled my face down to meet hers. As her tongue entered my mouth, two fingers entered my pussy and my own tongue bucked against hers. In absolute control of the situation, she drew her mouth back from mine, a triumphant smile on her face, and slipped a finger into my mouth. For the first time since my days of adolescent experimentation I tasted my own love nectar. Ree took my hand and led me upstairs to my marital bed. Along the way she slipped off her skirt and, mesmerised, I watched her taut naked buttocks climb the stairs before me.
We sat on the bed and kissed as Ree reached behind me and unclipped my bra. Barely breaking the kiss to slip her blouse over her head, she pressed me back into the bed, most of her hand, it seemed, in my pussy while her thumb flicked across my clitty. She nibbled her way down my throat to a breast, teasing one achingly stiff nipple with her teeth while a hand squeezed and caressed my other breast. As her tongue reamed my navel my hips lifted from the bed, and she pushed my now sodden thong down to my knees. Impatiently I kicked it off my legs. Then, for the first time since before my marriage, a warm, loving, adventurous mouth attached itself to my vagina. With tongue, teeth, lips, fingers, thumbs, nose, she drove me to heights of ecstasy I hadn’t dreamed existed. I smothered my face in a pillow to try to muffle my howls of lust, my heels drumming a tattoo on the bed.
As I finally subsided Ree’s mouth was back on mine, her fingers gently stroking my labia to help me come down. Again I tasted myself, this time on her sweet tongue. Eager to please my love, I lowered my head to her chest. She eyüp escort fed one of her tiny breasts into my mouth, and I feasted on a small, nut-hard nipple. My exploring fingers swirled in her dense forest of pubic hair, then pressed between the soft folds of her pussy lips, finding and stroking her clit, while my middle finger explored further. Novice as I was, I felt a surge of joy as her entire body stiffened, and she yelped like a terrier into my mouth as we kissed while she clutched me to her in a bear hug.
We lay in each other’s arms for a while, gently kissing as we stroked sweat-sodden hair from each other’s foreheads. Our breasts nuzzled like friendly puppies as her muscular nut brown body seemed almost to merge into my slim alabaster one. She told me that when she and her circle of girlfriends made a new conquest they normally tried to pass the woman from one to another – “but you’re too good a find, I’m going to keep you all to myself”.
After I don’t know how long, I stirred from drowsing to find myself alone on the bed. Momentarily alarmed, I relaxed as I heard Ree padding up the stairs and back to me. She entered the room wearing a huge strap-on cock, longer and much thicker than anything I’d ever seen in my wistful window shopping trips to Ann Summers. She giggled at the stunned expression on my face, as she suggestively rubbed a lubricant along its length. I asked her to take me from behind, as a change to Paul’s perpetual missionary position, but she shook her head. “Uh-uh, not this time. I want to see your face when you come, as I fuck you better than your old man or anyone else has ever fucked you in your life.”
She was true to her word, ramming the cock home so forcefully it drove the breath from my body, and hammering it into me harder, more teasingly and, of course, for far longer, than I’d ever known. The sweet smile on her face as it hovered above me completed the effect, and this time I needed no pillow – I didn’t give a shit if the entire street heard as I moaned, sobbed and screamed out the delirious pleasure I was being given by my beautiful, sweet, sexy, skilful new young lesbian lover.