“What?” She said. “I saw your pussy, it seems only fair you should eat mine.”
I gulped. “You want me to go down on you?” I asked in awe.
“Of course,” she smiled, “what do you think was on my mind when we used to cuddle during our sleepovers?”
“But I’ve never,” I felt like I was in a dream. I must have been dreaming. How else could all my fantasies be coming true? Every time I’d ever tasted my own pussy, I’d imagined it was Rose’s juices on my fingers. I’d always wanted to experience her, but secretly, never daring to think she might want the same. But there she was… stretched and splayed out before me.
“She might need a little help, boys.” Rose said, and then bit her lower lip and raised her eyebrows.
Strong hands gripped my arms and my hair and drove me forward, forcing me onto my knees on the cold tile beside the bench. I went willingly, but I appreciated the control -- it felt like a security blanket, making everything alright. Rose extended a long, sleek leg, toe pointed daintily, and I took that as my cue. I kissed her foot, and then extended my delicate tongue and licked up the inside of her lower leg. She moaned as my kisses reached her thighs, and I tried to hesitate there but the doctors urged me onward with firm hands. I could smell Rose’s wetness as I got closer, and I inhaled the intoxicating aroma as deeply as I could. I wanted to remember everything about that moment; the gorgeous woman in front of me and the handsome men controlling me. I couldn’t have fantasized a more perfect place to experience so many firsts.
I blew cool breath softly over Rose’s clit as I got close, loving the way she wriggled and giggled at the sensation. I kissed her on the clit and then lapped up her slit, drawing out a luxurious moan.
“Good girl,” I heard Michael say.
“Eat that pussy,” James urged.
I thrust myself forward and buried my face in Rose’s wetness, giving myself wholly to her pleasure. My tongue darted and circled, my lips massaged and caressed, and all the while I brought my best friend closer to climax. She was writhing and breathing hard when James’ voice interrupted our long awaited play.
“That’s enough. Let’s show this little girl how it’s done.”
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Michael commented. They pulled me away from that delicious pussy and sat me down on the cold floor. “Stay here,” Michael instructed, “and watch, and learn.”
“And enjoy,” James added as he pulled Rose off the exam table and pushed her down on her knees. She swallowed his cock like it belonged to her, working her lips up and down his entire length without breaking eye contact with him. She massaged his balls with one hand, drawing a moan from his lips, and blindly found Michael’s rigid cock with her other hand and pulled him closer by it. She pulled back from James, a long strand of saliva still connecting her lips to his head, and then stroked his cock and took a long lick up Michael’s shaft, teasing him. She was like a conductor, orchestrating both of their pleasure to perfection.
They weren’t satisfied with that, though. The next time she came up for air they grabbed her beneath the arms and lifted her to her feet. Michael sat on the padded bench and she straddled his lap, her pussy enveloping his cock greedily. James’ hands encircled her from behind, tweaking her nipples and massaging her tits as he positioned his dick against her asshole.
I was dripping again. My fingers found my clit as fire coursed through my veins, a fire that would never be satiated… but I could try. I rubbed myself in furious circles and tweaked my nipples with my free hand, imagining it was me pressed between the doctors in Rose’s place.
The three of them were a moaning machine of skin slapping against skin and sweat mingling with sweat. I felt a flash of jealousy when I saw Rose kiss Michael, but then forgot all about it as she came like a lioness, provoking my own orgasm.
The floor tiles were hard beneath my ass cheeks, but Michael had told me to stay so I stayed like a good girl. I kept playing with myself but I could not keep up with the furious pace of the trio before me. Rose looked like she had nearly passed out from bliss, but then she became suddenly alert and stopped the doctors with a hand on each of their chests.
“Not yet,” she said, “save it for Nina,”
I licked my lips. I knew what was coming. I’d been secretly hoping for it, secretly wondering if my best friend would give me the gift. She gasped as James and then Michael pulled out of her, and then grasped their cocks in each hand and led them toward me, jerking them simultaneously. The guys groaned, James massaging his balls while Michael reached down to tangle a hand in my hair.
“Tell us how much you want it,” he instructed.
“Oh my god, please give it to me.” I said. “Please cum all over me. I want to feel your warmth. I want to taste it and I want to smell it. I want it on my face and my tits and in my mouth and oh my god--” I cut off as they came simultaneously under Rose’s expert ministrations, ropes of thick semen shooting toward me. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth and felt the delicious spatter in an ongoing shower. They both came hard, and they came a lot… much more than my ex boyfriend ever had. Much more than I could have expected. I couldn’t help myself. I touched my clit again, and had an immediate groundbreaking orgasm.
“Show them how much you appreciate it,” Rose said. She leaned down and dragged a finger up my chest between my breasts, collecting a dollop of cum. She held it in front of my face. “Don’t let your dessert go to waste.”
I licked her finger clean without hesitation, luxuriating in the taste and texture.
“We’d better get back to work,” Michael said, and I realized him and James were at the sink getting cleaned up.
“Yeah,” James said as he started to get dressed. “Rose, what excuse did you give everyone?”
“I said I was assisting you with a minor but urgent non-invasive surgery. They think she’s the patient, and no one is any wiser for it.”
“I wouldn’t say it was entirely non invasive,” I moaned. My pussy and ass both ached. It was a good ache… but one I was certain would not go away for some time. Not that I was upset by the reminder.
“Good work, Rose.” Michael grinned as he finished buttoning up his shirt.
“I guess this concludes your shift,” James chuckled. “You two enjoy… whatever you have planned for the rest of the day.” He gave us a big wink, and then he and Michael filed out of the little room.
“Oh my god,” Rose laughed, “you are absolutely covered. Here, get up on the bench and lay still. I’ll take care of everything.”
I did as she instructed, laying back on the crumpled paper. She went to the sink and pulled a bowl and sponge from the cupboard beneath. She filled the bowl halfway with water and soap and carried it over, dunking and wringing out the sponge. I sighed softly as the warm sponge trailed across my stomach and chest, sluicing soapy water down my skin. Rose bathed me carefully, lovingly, paying attention to every contour of my body.
“We have so much to catch up on,” she said, “but I’m glad we got to start with that. I think we both needed it.”
“Mmm god yes.” I purred. “And you have so much to teach me.”
“I do?”
“Yes… like…” I blushed, my skin heating so much I was surprised the water didn’t evaporate. “Like how to take two cocks at once. I want that.”
“All in good time, I’m sure.” She said. “Michael and James really seemed to like you… so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you coming back for another visit.” She winked and then dunked the sponge and wrung it out. “Are you feeling nice and clean?”
“Mmm yes, thank you so much.” I stood up, my legs still shaky, and picked up my skirt, bra, purse, and shirt. Rose refilled the bowl and put on her scrubs and then cleaned the bench and threw out the used up paper. I got dressed somewhat disappointedly, wishing we could just stay naked in each others’ company forever. Even so… the real world wasn’t without its appeals. Rose had promised to take me to a local cafe where they served rea
l bubble tea. I gave the little exam room, the little magic room, one last longing look as we left, and then Rose flicked the lights off and closed the door.
I felt certain that people knew what was going on when we passed through the waiting room. The receptionist gave us an even dirtier look than before and everyone waiting to see a doctor seemed to be scowling. Rose didn’t seem to notice though, and she guided me out to the sunny, breezy day. The wind reached up my skirt and teased my aching holes, reminding me that I was no longer a virgin, as I’d been when I entered the building.
We chatted about all manner of things while we waited for the next bus, catching up on the latest happenings in each others’ lives. I wanted to know everything, and yet I was enthralled, almost obsessed, with this new aspect of our relationship. Rose liked the way I ate her pussy. Did that mean I could do it any time I wanted? Would she return the favor? Or had that just been a special treat because of the occasion?
The bus rolled up with a heavy sigh of exertion and the doors slid open. It was only about half full, mostly with senior citizens, and they were all seated near the front. We filed all the way to the back and sat in a double seat side by side. As the long vehicle got moving Rose poked my belly.
“What’s that look for?” She asked.
“What look?”
“You’re staring at me like a lost puppy. What are you thinking about?”
“I’m just wondering…” I said shyly.
“Wondering what?”
“If we… will we…” she poked me again, but this time her hand stayed pressed against my stomach and slid down between my legs, pressing up my skirt. Her finger penetrated the folds of my wet pussy and I sighed and leaned my head on her shoulder.
“Does that answer your question?” She asked.
“Yesss,” I hissed in her ear.
“Good,” she said, “I know the guys will feel like they’re in control of you… but you’re my good girl. Don’t you ever forget it.”
“Your good girl. Only yours,” I whispered as I stole a glance toward the front of the bus. No one was watching us.
“That’s right,” she growled, biting my ear lightly. “We’re going to have so much fun, Nina.”
Story 20
The winds from the moor cut through the village of Tilton Brae as Theresa Blackie turned her back on the town and turned onto the turnpike road which led not down towards her father’s farm, but towards the main thoroughfare towards London. The wind blasted across the bracken covered hills from the empty marches bringing with it the peaty smell of hills smothered in heather.
Over one arm Theresa had slung a basket containing all her earthly possessions: Just a few dresses and undergarments, some small trinkets to remind her of her parent’s smoke filled three room farmhouse, and the only book her family had ever owned apart from the Bible – a copy of Lord Byron’s Don Juan. The book was not hers, but she had been forbidden to read it while cohabited with her parents and six younger sisters. The proscription had been too strong a temptation and she had added it to her satchel in a petulant moment.
Her plan was to hike out to the toll gate on the edge of town and wait for the stage to come through on the way to London, then she’d set herself up in some small post in the Metropol and ply one of the many skills her modest country education had bestowed on her.
She had excellent hands for sewing and being nineteen, had learned enough reading, writing, latin and maths to tutor her sisters and make a few pennies assisting the schoolmarm in Tilton. Besides as the eldest of seven, she could run a household, make a bed, and generally tend to those tasks she imagined the stately homeowners of London would rather have other people do for them for a small fee.
But in the end it was not employment that mattered, but simply getting out of Tilton Brae. For Theresa the small town had become oppressive, the repetitive work of guiding the plough, the sowing, the weeding, and pulling, milking, shearing, churning, harvesting along with any other number of hand roughening verbs had become like a prison sentence and the term was life.
She wanted to see the world, or at least a little of England beyond her moor-bound horizons. Despite being nineteen, this would be her first journey any further than Royston, the largest market town in the area and perhaps six miles down the river as the trout swim.
As she trudged out towards the toll gate, wishing she had put on her thicker shawl and feeling the wind try to snatch her bonnet off her hair, she was lost in her imagined futures. Her earthly feet trod the rut dug in the road by the passing of hundreds, maybe thousands, of carts but the boots of her mind trod through a different kind of rut, the sort worn by the same thoughts travelling the same lines. She was thinking of a tailor’s shop which existed in the Elysian fields of her mind. A shop frequented by all the most fashionable bachelors of London-town. A shop where one day one of the visiting gentry might take a shine to her, and offer her an invite to a small spring ball and fall madly for her simple country virtues and love of God. A shop in short, that she loved for how it would allow her to leave for far better things.
She was just reaching the point in her imaginings where she would return to Tilton with a bairn beside her in her husband’s stage and four – one of three carriages they would own – when she heard the approach of the London stage and its own four proud horses.
Oh, she thought to herself. It’s come in early.
Rushing to stay ahead with her hopes of reaching the turnpike before the stage beginning to vanish she turned her bonnet and glanced up the road. That’s odd, she thought realising that she did not recognise the driver, who was done up in rather finer livery than the regular coachmen who worked the route between Bath to the North West and London out to the East.
Still, she picked up her pace closing in on the toll gate which she judged to be just close enough ahead and the coach just far enough behind that she had a good chance of beating the one to the other.
In the end, she reached the gate at almost the same moment as the stage and hardly had time to break her step before ducking round the back while the coachman paid the toll. Careful not to disturb the suspension enough to trouble the passengers Theresa popped the luggage rack at the back of the coach and slipped in among the valises and trunks. Then she eased down the lid and settled in for an uncomfortable and cramped ride.
To allow her a little light she bundled up her shawl and wedged it across the lock. A few moments later, with a sharp jerk the coach headed off again.
This was it! She was on her way to London! Her new life was just beginning.
Her wedged shawl allowed just enough light in to read the Byron if she held it up line by line to the narrow opening.
So it was she passed the time sounding out the words the way they taught her in school. The story rather shocked her. The sixteen year old Juan seduced by an older woman, a crime Theresa couldn’t quite grasp though she understood the deviant horror in a married woman loving another man.
What would mama think? she thought, beginning to understand why the book had been banned from her.
Rather put out by the weak willed Juan and the impetuous Julia, Theresa opted to drift into sleep instead of enjoying the second canto.
Theresa woke with a start as light flooded in on her. A man’s voice was saying, “I told you I heard babbling. I say girl, what on earth are doing in there?” The voice was deep and refined with an ironic drawl to it.
An angrier and commoner voice, which she recognised as the coachman from his transaction at the toll gate, added, “Bloody stowaway, I’ll give her a thorough thrashing, sir.”
“Nonsense,” said the other voice. “You cannot thrash a guest and she is undoubtedly a guest in the back of my trap.”
“More like a bloody sneak thief, looking to murder your Lordship and company in your sleep.”
“That’s enough, Clifford. She’s waking up.”
Theresa’s eyes were adjusting and her mind racing to catch up. The coach was still, her hiding place discov
ered, her journey finished!
Using a word she’d never used before even in thought, she muttered “Damn,” to herself. She would have to walk the rest of the way assuming this ‘Lord’ didn’t change his mind and have that nasty crude manservant thrash her.
The face of a young man, perhaps in his early thirties at the oldest was peering in at her. He had long brown hair tied back rather rakishly and a beautifully cut, but carelessly buttoned surcoat. “Come on then,” he said with a very gentle voice and appeared to offer Theresa his hand, but instead with great strength and almost idle casualness reached into the back of the carriage and seized her by her hair, hauling her out onto the road. Not roughly, but insistently and more than a little painfully.
Confused by her sudden waking and by the sudden pain of having her hair pulled about like a hare lifted by its ears she let out a yelp, making her muttered “Damn” into a yell.
Tears flashed in her eyes as the Lordly man in front of her pulled her hair back so that she sat down firmly on the back step of the coach. “What’s your name, young miss?” The voice was calm and friendly in sharp contrast to the grip its owner was maintaining on her hair.
Through the blur of tears and fear Theresa, muttered her name, and as if it were the password the hand was lifted from her head allowing her to look around and assess how much trouble she was really in.
The coachman was glowering at her angrily but remained silent in deference to his master. The coach was still on the moors and Theresa recognised one of the distant hills. Damn, again. I could have walked this far in a day. This ride was for nothing.
She looked at the road with bonnet and shawl knocked off she felt the bitter edge in the wind and shivered. It would be a cold walk to the nearest village, inn, or waypost.
“My name is MrChettam. Where are you headed, Theresa Blackie?”
Rough and Hardcore Erotica Page 39