by Emmie Combs
"You're beautiful," he mumbled.
"Taste me," he heard the woman say. "Suck my nipples, darling. Both of them ... That's it, lick them ..."
Phillip held himself upright on extended arms over the supine Gabrielle. When he looked into the woman's mysterious eyes, there was little residual trace left of his earlier, reticent expression
"I want to fuck you," he grunted. "Please ..."
"Not so fast, my eager young virgin. You have to make me wet first. You can't force that big thing into me yet, it would tear a tiny thing like me apart. No, I need to be all slippery for when you first stab me with that big cock." Gabrielle pushed Phillip's chest gently. Despite his ardour, the young man moved away. He'd have to follow the experienced woman's lead. Gabrielle's legs widened; and so did Phillip's eyes. "Lick me there," she said and pointed to the confusing folds and scarlet heat between her legs.
Phillip's immediate thought at Gabrielle's symmetry contradicted with his urges. A tiny part of him was mildly alarmed at the intricacies of her genitalia. The crinkles and curls of her labia were a mystery of design to him, but the primal urge to devour her-- with penis, mouth, and fingers, he didn't care which -- overrode any initial squeamishness.
"Lick just here." Gabrielle held herself open with the fingers of one hand and pointed to the place.
With verbal guidance and subtle shifts of her body, Gabrielle instructed the novice in the arts of cunnilingus. Phillip was more eager than adept, but with guidance from the woman, he soon found how wet he could make her.
"Fucking hell," he cursed when he first saw the spot of desire that stained the bedcover beneath Gabrielle's backside. "Sorry," he muttered in apology. "I didn't mean to swear.
"You can say anything. I've heard everything before, darling; I'm a whore after all. I even utter the occasional profanity myself." She beckoned to the boy. "Come here. Bring your face up here and kiss me. I want to taste myself on your tongue." Just before her open mouth met Phillip's lips in what was to be his first French kiss, Gabrielle muttered a shocking instruction. "Push a finger into me," she murmured. "Finger my cunt and open me up so you can fuck me with that beautiful cock."
Her hand closed around Phillip's wrist and showed him where to touch her. He felt the slide of her tongue over his own as the woman kissed him. At the same moment Phillip's finger slid inside Gabrielle's body, Doggett stepped onto the landing just beyond the closed door.
"Another finger," Gabrielle hissed. "Put another finger in there. In and out, and wriggle them around, you won't hurt me ... It just feels so good."
Phillip gazed at Gabrielle's twisted face. She looked to be in pain to him, but when he tried to remove his fingers, she clamped a hand around his forearm and forced his probing digits deeper.
"I'm so close to coming." The words thrilled Phillip. He was doing this to her! It was he who was taking this woman to the brink. His cock throbbed. He ached with desire, desperate to get at her and to fuck into her like a beast.
"Sit on the bed," Gabrielle instructed abruptly. "I want to suck you before we do it. Then you can put it in me and do whatever you want. But first I want you in my mouth."
Doggett's huge hand rested on the door handle. He could hear the words being uttered in the room beyond; he knew what the woman was doing. An image of her with the penis in her mouth burst into mind, he could see how her lips stretched around the girth of the thing. A growl of desire rumbled from him; his cock was already stiff.
What Doggett imagined, Phillip saw. Gabrielle, her cheeks concave, stared into the young man's eyes as she held the dome of his prick inside her mouth. As she sucked, her tongue tickled the underside of Phillip's glans. She'd been right; the boy's toes did curl.
Gabrielle's fist worked at the root while her mouth and tongue took Phillip to a place he'd never imagined. This woman was everything. A fantasy reel played in a part of his mind that dwelt in a different reality -- a universe divorced from his physical senses. He would stay with this woman forever, that he could somehow keep her all for himself; so that she could do these things to him whenever he wanted ...
Poor Phillip didn't realise that in a short time, his wish would be granted.
As the pleasure grew too intense to bear he felt the inevitable surge begin. "It's ... I'm ..." he blurted.
His cry triggered the sudden, violent and final scene.
Doggett, hearing the shout, recognised the signal and knew the time had come. In a blur of speed he burst into the room. With his trousers open to reveal the terrible organ that jutted from the nest of his thick pubic bush, he stroked his cock and advanced.
When first, hot spurt gushed against Gabrielle's palette, she let the spitting cock slip from her lips. A thick rope of semen hung from her cheek and clung to her hair as her hand slid under the bed.
Phillip barely registered the door bursting open. His pleasure blew apart in red agony that flashed deep in his groin. He felt the bite of the blade and looked down to its source. A scarlet jet squirted violently from the wound. Shocked, he looked to Gabrielle, who now stood over him, and he saw the evil spike of the stiletto in her fist. She'd cut him, stabbed him in the groin with the blade! Terrified at the sight of his severed femoral artery spurting his life away, the great arcs synchronised with his rapidly beating heart, Phillip blurted a cry of fear, surprise, and pain. He struggled to sit up, but Gabrielle dropped the weapon and, with strength beyond human, pinned his shoulders to the bed.
Ignoring the blood spattering against her body, uncaring that the stuff pooled on the bed and soaked into the cover and mattress like the tide on greedy sand, she stared into his eyes with an expression of avid concentration and jubilation. The lad continued his futile struggle and, with his efforts growing ever weaker, and his terrified moans tapering, Gabrielle turned her rear to Doggett.
The big man growled like an animal at the invitation. He offered the knob of his cock to Gabrielle's opening and, with a single slide, entered her fully. The woman gasped at the robust intrusion; she turned her head for a moment and faced him. Doggett, his intelligent eyes glazed by his base instincts, began to thrust and grunt.
"Do it to me," she urged. "I'm close ... Do it. I want to feel that thing spit inside me."
Phillip fell limp under Gabrielle's hands. She locked her eyes on his again. The dying man's face expressed his changing emotions. The fear left and was replaced by a puzzled look, eventually the eyes clouded and his gaze grew fixed; Gabrielle knew it was time.
"Give me your essence," she breathed. Her face fell towards Phillip's. "I need it, it's mine. Now give it to me."
Doggett dug his fingers into Gabrielle's hips and pulled her buttocks against his body. He fucked into her with short, urgent stabs. The rutting, an exquisite pleasure as it was, was secondary to Doggett. There was a greater hunger within him, a darker desire. He willed the boy to die.
The woman continued to stare into Phillip's dull eyes. "You're going darling," she crooned. She tried to hold her head as still as possible while Doggett pumped vigorously from behind. Her lips touched Phillip's. She held the kiss as death took him.
Her climax surged through her, a triumphant explosion that crackled and flared. She gasped again as Doggett's seed burst against her insides, the man himself let go a howl of pleasure and clawed at Gabrielle's hips as he came. Gabrielle whimpered but kept her mouth fastened to Phillip's lips as the life force slid from his body and into her.
Phillip felt himself slide away from the scene. The pain faded to nothing. He heard a sighing like wind in the tops of high trees. Phillip was back in the time, the only time he'd been taken to visit his paternal grandparents in Derbyshire.
One day, after the usual huge breakfast, he explored Minninglow Hill, a lonely knob of a hillock topped with tall, emaciated trees. He'd hoped to find loot in the long-excavated tombs, the pits of which were still very much in evidence, and, with nobody else around for miles, Phillip listened instead to the sighing of the trees above him, like whispers from the pa
st.
That was the sound he heard again, in his final moments, before Gabrielle took him.
Then there was nothing.
Gabrielle sighed deeply. It was, for her, the perfect moment. All of her appetites sated in one go. Something she needed every hundred years. She reached back and pushed Doggett away from her body. She had no more use for him for now. He was redundant. When she needed him again she'd call for him. He'd come running.
Doggett, his cock dripping with cum eyed his mistress eagerly.
"I'm going to bathe." Gabrielle said simply. "It's yours. Do what you must."
With her gone, Doggett changed into the form he felt most comfortable in.
The great beast licked its lips in a gesture of lascivious greed. It sniffed the air and recognised the scent of the woman and the human male who now lay dead on the bed. The odour of sex was strong, but the animal ignored that smell; what excited him was the blood. The tang of hot blood in the air meant fresh meat for him. He'd obeyed his mistress and now it was time for him to feed.
He sniffed the corpse and opened the great maw of his mouth to take the first bite ...
The End.
The Art of Sex
I have a friend, Ben, who is a budding artist. Each year his art gallery participates in an art crawl where they all get to show off their talents. Each year, my husband and I attend the art crawl, mostly to be supportive. The "crawl" was recently held and so off we went to participate in the annual review.
The Crawl isn't far from our home which is in a large city in the breadbasket of the country and, therefore, it is not much trouble putting in the time to drive down and review the art. And, of course, some of the art really is very good.
For years I have been noticing that in addition to the landscapes, street scenes, and paintings of children playing there are scattered throughout the exhibits a number of nudes. My husband has suggested that I should pose for Ben and his group but that has always seemed a bit too public for me even though art classes in college always had nude models and it seemed not to be too embarrassing for either the models or the class itself, of which I have been a participant.
We arrived at the Crawl and had a nice chat with Ben, his wife, and some fellow artists and decided it was time to walk through the gallery if one could call it that. It was really just a big room on the second floor of a big warehouse with big windows throughout. It was pretty Spartan really but I guess it serves the purpose. My husband walked in one direction while I walked another, picking up a glass of wine and a few crackers that they always have available for the prospective buyers.
Eventually of course I found my way to the nude portraits. There were paintings and sketches and charcoal drawings of all manner of being. Some of the models were quite beautiful, while others, perhaps not so much but something in the human form always seems to appeal to me. As I scanned the sketches I came upon one of a male sitting, almost straddling on a stool. He was an attractive man with a nice chest, just a bit of which was sparsely hair covered and abs that actually had definition. What my eyes were drawn to however was what was hanging between his legs. If drawn accurately he would certainly make an impression on the artist one would think as his penis was hanging off the stool and below the stool top by what appeared to be more than just a couple of inches. While flaccid it appeared that his manhood was longer limp than my husband was after achieving maximum length.
My gaze on the sketch was too long as I felt arms around me and the not surprising comment from my husband.
"Really something isn't it? I imagine you are imagining how big that would get standing up?"
"Oh hush and don't be so inappropriate" I scowled at him. Although I admitted to myself that I was just a bit curious about the sketch.
I quickly moved along and found my way back to my friend Ben and continued our conversation where we had left off. My husband, who had been just a dozen or so steps behind interrupted us to ask about the sketch of the guy on the stool.
"Oh, that's Paul" Ben supplied. "He seems to be a favorite model around here."
"I can understand why" was my husbands' retort. "Sandy here was quite taken by his sketch."
I found myself blushing and of course commented that I just enjoyed the quality of the artist's skills.
"Paul is modeling again next week Sandy, you could come by and sketch him yourself."
"Oh no, I don't think I could do that Ben, I think my guy here would be too uncomfortable with the competition."
"No I wouldn't Sandy. I think you should stop in. Frankly, I think you should model as well. You know I'd love to have a portrait of you in something sexy and I'm sure Ben would be happy to help."
"Well sure, I'd be happy to" Ben smiled at both of us. "I'd love to paint your portrait as would the rest of the class I'm sure." I continued my objections and eventually they let the conversation move on to other topics. After a time we had achieved our obligatory visiting limit and prepared to leave.
I reached up to give Ben a hug goodbye with him reciprocating. He also, however, whispered "come by next Tuesday at eight o'clock and you can model for us. I know the group would appreciate it as they don't have the opportunity to sketch redheads very often."
"I'll think about it" was my reply as I pulled away and bid him goodbye and we were out the door and on to the next exhibitor's space. For the rest of the evening I found myself a bit distracted wondering if I could really model for Ben and his group. I was certain I could not model nude like most of the other models but I did find it exciting to consider maybe lingerie modeling as I wondered about who in the class might find me attractive and might have thoughts as they were sketching that they might not admit to their wives or girlfriends. I found myself getting physically excited as the evening wore on until I could eventually feel dampness between my legs thinking of the naughtiness of the idea. I pondered what I might wear and how sheer my clothing might be. My fantasy spread to my lingerie drawer as I mentally picked through my sheer panties and onto my thongs and eventually to my smallest, sheerest thongs. I imagined myself laying on the studio table in just one of my thongs and nothing else but a smile and I began to shiver excitedly wondering if I would trim my red mound or let them see all of what was currently between my legs.
My husband became the beneficiary of my fantasies as I grabbed his hand and took him upstairs as soon as we got home. I'm sure he wondered what had gotten into me as I stripped him before I dropped my own clothing and took him completely in my mouth and sucked until he came and continued to suck just a bit longer. It had been a long time since he had experienced what he often begged for but usually didn't end up experiencing and I enjoyed the look of appreciation on his face as I wondered, almost out loud, if I could actually get Paul's apparently massive cock into my mouth at all after spending so much time with something so much smaller.
I found myself thinking about Tuesday all of the rest of the weekend and even at work on Monday. These were exciting thoughts and my husband continued to benefit but I knew they were just my thoughts, my fantasies and I really wasn't going there.
Toward the end of the day on Monday as I was just wrapping up for the day Ben called. "Hi Sandy, I'm just confirming your attendance tomorrow night. I've told the group that you are going to model for us and they are all excited. I want to make sure that eight o'clock still works for you."
Somehow I found myself saying that "yes, that time works fine for me."
"Good, Paul will be modeling tomorrow as well. I'm thinking we could have you model together, which might be more comfortable for you."
"Together? How would that be more comfortable?"
"Well so that you aren't the only nude body up on the platform; lots of people model in pairs the first time until they get more comfortable. A lot of our models really enjoy doing this both in pairs or as singles."
"Oh, ok, yah sure, um what should I wear?"
"Anything you want dear as you probably will not be wearing anything long anyway" he s
aid with a laugh. "And you know that I've been looking forward to seeing more of you for a long time...see you tomorrow." With that he hung up as I just stared at the phone in wonderment of what I just agreed to do.
I made my way home even in the dazed state I now seemed to find myself. Running up to the bathroom I grabbed a razor and took off my skirt and hose. Sitting on a stool facing the full length mirror I stared at the mat of flaming red between my legs and began to shave. I didn't stop until there was just a small triangle of hair remaining that I was certain would be covered by the thong I found myself accepting as an article of clothing for Tuesday. I determined that I would wear the little black sheer one that disappeared easily between my legs but maybe the "group" would find that acceptable as opposed to being completely nude. I made myself a bath and was soon mostly under the water as I thought about the following day.
I had dozed a bit when I heard my husband enter his day at the office. He immediately noticed my handiwork (what is it about men anyway?) and asked what the occasion was.
I admitted to him how I had unwittingly agreed with Ben to model for their group the following night and that while I would not be nude I wanted to make sure that I was trimmed enough so everything would appear conservative and proper.
"Yah, ok I guess I'll accept that" as he leeringly grabbed my hands and pulled me out of the water. He toweled me down and grabbed me again and pulled me into the bedroom and threw me on the bed. I began objecting until he dropped his pants and I saw him harder than I had seen for a while. I opened my legs for him. In one thrust he was in me. I was surprised that it didn't hurt as it usually took a few prelims before I was ready but I guess I had already been ready.
"Are you going to show them your pussy?" He began picking up speed.
"No, no I'm not."
"Are you going to show them your titties?"
"Well I thought that might be ok, is that ok with you?"
"Oh god yes; I want you to show them your titties, but I also want you to show them that pretty pussy of yours."