I took the DVD from her hand. “Serendipity? Really?”
“I love John Cusack,” she said.
“Me too, but not when he’s in shit. Kate Beckinsale is too beautiful to believe in that movie. Sorry, but that’s a fact.”
I poured the wine and we each made it through a glass and a half before the doorbell rang. I paid for the pizza, with a fat tip for the hotty delivery guy, then closed the door and said, “Finally! Now we won’t be interrupted.”
I went to the DVD player and pressed play to start the DVD that wasn’t Serendipity.
Melissa gasped as the screen filled with high definition video and soft, sultry music. A gorgeous brunette and a petite blond with porcelain features were showing off their bodies in lacy lingerie. “What is this?” she said.
“It’s not Serendipity!” I laughed. I let Melissa watch it for a minute – she couldn't have moved her eyes if she wanted to – then I said, “It’s porn.”
“It doesn’t look like porn.” Her eyes were so wide they looked like they were going to roll from her face.
“It’s good porn,” I said. “It does exist. Just harder to find on the tube channels. You actually have to pay for it.”
Melissa laughed. “Pay for porn? Who does that?”
“Smart people who want good shit.”
We watched the blond and brunette share a long, slow, tender kiss as early morning light spilled through the window and bathed their bodies in warmth. Tongues danced with passion as the two girls slowly peeled lace from each other’s body.
“Explicit...but beautiful,” Melissa said, still staring.
I smiled. “How wet are you?” I asked.
“Soaking.”
“Me too. So what are we going to do about it?”
“Whatever you want,” Melissa said, turning to face me. Her eyes were hungry. She kissed me lightly on the lips and whispered, “I have to go potty, I’ll be right back.”
I rubbed my pussy the entire time Melissa was in the bathroom, because why the fuck not, then swallowed the rest of my wine in a single gulp. Melissa came out of the bathroom and I almost choked.
She looked hot. Gorgeous hot.
She was wearing a white nighty, edged in pink. It pushed her breasts to a natural swell, the fabric fluttering a few inches below her waist. The sheer white at the bottom shimmered just lightly enough for me to see her light patch of black beneath.
My girl was panty free.
All the feelings I’d been stuffing down since spring break rose to the surface. The ache I had to shove to the deepest parts of my desire when I really wanted to shove her mouth on my mound in Mexico; the time when I felt a twitch in my twat when we were driving in her Tahoe with Lacy and Lacy said she loved the feeling of a tongue in her asshole, and Melissa said she would only do that with a girl; the time when our mouths were mashed at Pulse, just after Chris had banged me hard against a brick wall, flooding me with so much cum it pooled into the alley.
I’d wanted to get down with some one-on-one crumpet munching since I was mopping Susan juices with my mouth. And now that I was about to get my chance, the pounding in my pussy was giving me a ringing in my ears.
“Lay down,” I commanded. The girl porn played behind us as Melissa climbed onto the couch, a craven look on her face. I dropped to my knees and crawled toward the couch, like I had so many times before, though it had never been to lap at the lips of a spreadeagled lover like a bitch in heat, which was exactly what I was.
Melissa tilted her head toward the back of the couch and raised her knees in the air. I started my mouth at the middle of her inner thigh, and slowly licked my way to the top. I circled her slit, then dragged my tongue across her tummy before dipping back down to the treasure below. My tongue slithered between her lips as I sucked her moisture into my mouth. I worked my tongue, in and out, running from slit to ass.
Melissa raised her hips to meet my thrusts, slow and steady, moaning the entire time. She whimpered, then pushed my head into her deeper.
My tongue traced circles around her swollen lips as I added my fingers. Her panting was already rising to the pitch of orgasm. I started licking her faster and rubbing her harder. I pulled away, replacing my tongue withmy another finger, shoving the three of them deep, curling them toward her G-Spot, and thrusting them faster and faster.
Melissa bucked hard against my hand. I pushed the back of her legs, raised her ass in the air, then lapped at her puckered ass as it slammed against my face, along with her entire body, as she screamed, “OH MY GAWD I’M CUMMING. I’VE NEVER FELT ANYTHING LIKE THIS BEFORE!!!”
As soon as she stopped shaking, Melissa was on me like I was covered in chocolate, rubbing her body against me, licking me, loving me, lapping at my every fold. It made me squirm and worm and writhe. I couldn't say I liked it more than dick, because I didn’t. But if a guy had walked in, I would’ve have screamed at him to get the fuck out.
Melissa was doing things to me that no man ever had; things no man ever could.
She touched my body like she loved to be touched, licked my body like she loved to get licked, and used the juices from my slophole to moisten the tight ring of my asshole.
She must’ve loved that, too.
I was in heaven, and I’d never felt anything like it before. I expected the pleasure, but it was different from what I anticipated. With a guy, there is a constant back and forth, and give and take. We fit together biologically. With Melissa there was a sense of sameness that made my head swim and slit glisten.
I loved the way she was teasing me, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to take it before I took control. I tried to wiggle away, give her the hint that I wanted more. I wanted her to eat me like I’d eaten her, wanted her to make me scream and shake and rattle and hum, like she had done a few minutes before.
The girls on screen were screaming. Loud, shaking, rocking, orgasms. I wanted to look up and see them, wanted to see the pink of their pussies as they stretched their swollen lips, wanted to see their slick inner thighs covered in girl cum, but I couldn't stop squirming.
I finally made my move, pushing Melissa from my body and climbing on top of her. I swallowed her mouth and sent my tongue on a mission, keeping my face on hers for several minutes, drawing only the occasional breath as my hands explored every inch of her body, continuing to please her so I could coax her into pleasing me.
“Follow me,” I was practically purring.
I ran to my bedroom, plopped on my bed, spread my legs like a butterfly’s wings, then opened the lips of my slit so they were the first thing Melissa would see when she entered the room.
“Suck my pussy,” I said as she entered.
Melissa dropped to her knees and did as I commanded, crawling toward the bed, just as I’d done in the living room. She sucked my pussy, soft at first, but only for a second before her nose was mashed against my flesh and her face was getting glazed by my lips.
I screamed and moaned and wanted more. I pulled away, then rolled from the bed.
“What are you doing?” Melissa asked.
I pointed to the bed. “Lay down,” I said.
She didn’t ask why, just obediently climbed on the bed and stayed on all fours, looking back to see if that was what I wanted. I shook my head no.
“Lay down,” I repeated.
She flipped to her back, then I climbed on the bed and lowered myself until my sopping mound was on her mouth. “Now eat me,” I said.
That’s when I fucking lost it. We both did.
Melissa’s mouth was all over my pussy, in a way no man’s had ever been before. By the sounds of her slurping and sucking, she had to be loving the taste. I was moaning and so was she. When I found my voice I started to use it. “That’s right,” I cried, “breathe through your nose so you can eat my cunt like a dirty slut.”
Melissa’s face must have looked like it was underwater.
She grabbed my tits and held them tight as she pushed her mouth deeper.
I screamed and shuddered, swallowed by the same orgasms that had claimed Melissa earlier. I couldn't say anything other than OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD until after the fifth orgasm when I finally found the breath to say, “If I had a cock, you’d be covered in cum!”
I was probably being greedy, but I wanted more. And by the still starving look in Melissa’s eye, she did, too. Maybe it’s because we had waited for so long. Or maybe it was just because it felt like Shangri-FUCKING-La to have your lips lapped at by a lady.
“Remember when you said you’d only lick the asshole of another girl?” I asked.
She nodded.
I didn’t say another word, just crawled to the other side of the bed and stayed on all fours. I could feel the bed settle as Melissa moved behind me, then spread my cheeks and buried her face in my ass.
I screamed, then came, then came and screamed.
Melissa put her fingers in my pussy, but I slapped them away and shoved in my own. “Lick faster!” I ordered. She did, while I fingerfucked myself to oblivion. I couldn't believe how much the sound of my ass cheeks slapping the sides of her face was turning me on. Melissa’s hands had firm purchase on my tits and she was twisting my nipples hard enough to make me see stars.
I came all over the place, losing myself to delirium. I couldn't feel Melissa’s hands on me anymore, and by the sound of her screaming beside me, they must have found their way back to her own hole.
The next 10 minutes or so were a blur – kissing and rubbing and sucking and licking and OHMYGOD we were everywhere. When we finally stopped panting, we lay still, each of us probably thrilled that we’d finally let our bottled emotions froth from the top.
“Was that like you thought it was going to be?” I asked.
Melissa sighed the sweetest sigh, then said. “Nothing at all.”
I laughed and said, “Me neither.”
She ran her fingers up and down the length of my leg. “Will you watch Serendipity with me, then we can do it again?”
“I’d love to,” I said.
And we did. I didn’t even hate Serendipity at all the second time. Must have been on a bad mood the first time I saw it. Maybe it was easier to think it was cute when your muffin was just nuzzled to nirvana.
Melissa and I had “girl’s night” several more times over the next six months, each time as amazing as the one before. By the seventh month, Melissa was serious enough with the new guy she was seeing that she had to call it off between us. We both knew it was a bad idea to make it three’s a crowd.
Another six months later, and Melissa became the first of our group to get married.
I’m sure I’ll eat a lot of pussy in my life, whether I stay with Sam forever or not, but there will never be another Melissa. I like guys more, always will. It’s just how I’m wired. But Melissa taught me that I like girls, too.
These days, I get to have my pie and eat it, too. Just wait until I tell you about the first time I brought Brooke into the bedroom to share me with Sam.
XXX
Sex With My Professor
(Autumn is a proud slut, but never a whore. And she won’t trade her body for a better grade in the class she thinks she might be failing. But Professor Chambers thinks Autumn is an excellent student in more ways than one. The second Autumn found out he wasn’t married, her panties were on the floor, tits were in the air, and ass all over the good professor’s dick.)
I was on my way to see Professor Chambers, the English and writing teacher whose class I had skipped three times in a row, and was worried I’d have to drop if I didn’t beg for grace.
It wasn’t that I hated writing, I loved it actually. But I’d been partying hard and paying less attention in school. I didn’t think the class was worth my time. I’ve seen the light since, but back then I held the firm belief that you couldn't make money as a writer. I had no desire to be a starving artist.
Professor Chambers changed my life by convincing me I was born to be a writer, and that I wouldn't have to go broke to buy my dreams. He also convinced me it was okay to fuck your professor, especially if he looked like Eric Bana, took you hard from behind, and made you scream “OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!” from behind his closed office door.
I stood in front of his office, swallowed the lump in my throat, knocked, then opened the door on the seventh second without an answer. Professor Chambers looked up from his desk, smiled, then gestured for me to sit in the chair opposite him.
I wasn’t sure how old he was, maybe 10 years older than me, though he probably just looked great for close to 40, mixed with the wishful thinking on my end that had me not wanting to fuck a guy within a decade of my dad’s age, even if he did look like Eric Bana.
This was a couple of years back. Since then I’ve learned that older guys usually use their broomstick better. Because they’ve had more practice, or because they’re a helluva lot hungrier. Either way, YUMMY.
Professor Chambers signaled that he needed a minute as he finished something on his desk. I waited to see if he’d steal a glance at my tits. They weren’t especially big, but they were damn nice, and I’d packaged them for him, in a crimson colored blouse that scooped low enough for him to see the sweet line running down the middle, and imagine his dick in between it, without being low enough to look like I was showing off.
I was proud of my tits, but I’d wrapped the entire package for him, and it all looked great, from my charcoal pleated skirt to my heels, to the silver heart necklace whose bottom looked like an arrow pointing toward everything on me worth playing with.
I couldn't hide my smile as the professor opened his mouth to speak, stealing a glance at my tits and taking a second too long to hide it. “Good afternoon, Ms. Cole. What can I do for you?”
“Thanks for seeing me, Professor Chambers.”
“You can call me Carl,” he said.
Ooh, I thought. Getting friendlier already. “If you’re Carl, then I’m Autumn,” I said.
He smiled.
“I just wanted to stop by today because I didn’t want you to think I didn’t care about your class. Because I do. I know I’ve missed a few days so I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to make it up.” I smiled again, but bigger.
“Autumn,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “You’ve missed my class a total of seven times this semester, the last three right in a row. Do you think that shows that you care about the class in any way?”
I was flattered that the good professor was aware of how much I’d missed. “No,” I said. “It doesn’t. But I do and I’m sorry. I just love the parties more than the classes, and I listen to my inner child all too often. Not your fault, mine. Your class rocks whenever I go, and you deserve for me to be there. I promise I won’t miss another class. But I want to know if there’s anything I can do to make up for what I’ve already missed.”
Carl smiled, then said, “Autumn, you are an exemplary writer. And I’m not the sort of professor to punish a student for living life. Everyone goes to college for different reasons, and I’m quite sure you’re mining exactly what you’re supposed to from your experience. However,” he added, moving a pile of papers to the corner of his desk as his voice gathered weight, “I would love to see more from you.”
I didn’t want to fuck the professor for a better grade, I genuinely wanted to hear what he had to say. I was fixed on every word.
“You’ll likely get an A in my class even if you don’t show up another day. You’re the best writer in the room, no doubt about it, and that is what the class is all about. As long as you turn in your final project, and it’s as outstanding as everything else I’ve seen from you, then I can’t imagine giving you anything but wonderful marks. Attendance is bunk, excellent writing is enough for me. But is it really enough for you? Wouldn’t you rather leave my class a superior writer to when you came in? I’ve taught thousands of students, Autumn. You are rare – clarity of voice, a natural rhythm, and an ear for language that makes it seem easy. You’re the type of writer that
make other writers jealous. Including me,” he smiled.
I’ve always loved writing, but figured I was shit since writers always bitched and moaned about how hard it was. I figured I must be doing something wrong. The fact that a professor was telling me I was good meant approximately dick. I’d had several teachers wax poetic about my “potential,” including my history teacher who said I was a natural. I’m practically retarded when it comes to history, he just wanted to fuck me, like every other teacher who told me I was better than I was.
It was like they could smell the sex on me, and yeah, I know I make the smell. But the scent they didn’t get was the one that said I’d rather leave with an F-, than fuck my way to an A. I didn’t mind benefit of the doubt, which is exactly what a low cut blouse and a heart necklace pointing to the juicy parts could get you, but I wasn’t willing to trade favors.
I was quiet, absorbing the professor’s words and trying to separate bullshit from truth. My instinct said there wasn’t any bullshit to be found, but my heart had a hard time believing it. The professor kept enumerating the many ways my writing stood out from the other students who were still “struggling to find their voice.”
“What do you mean?” I said. “You keep saying I have natural voice, but what does that actually mean? I’d prefer examples to compliments. I’m not trying to be flip Professor Chambers, Carl, but I’ve had plenty of teachers tell me I was good at stuff when I wasn’t, simply because they wanted to get where I wasn’t gonna let them go.”
Carl laughed out loud, slapped his hand on the desk, then picked up a sleek looking black pen and started bouncing it at the top of the corner of his leather planner.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he said. “Above all, Autumn, you are an honest writer. You say what’s on your mind, and you say it better than most. You don’t pull punches, and that sort of honesty is rare, in writing and in life. And it’s always worth reading. Your writing is like a well worn skirt: just long enough to cover what’s important, but short enough to keep things interesting.” After a slight pause he added, “And it always makes me long for more.”
Fifty Shades of Lexi Maxxwell Page 31