X-Art: Teasers

by Lexi Maxxwell

  I was sprawled on the counter, facing the front door, my legs spread wide as Carmen fell to her knees. My right leg was parallel to the counter, my left draped over her shoulder and dangling. I thanked my lithe dancer’s body as she vigorously licked me.

  I petted the back of Carmen’s head, sinking deeper into pleasure.

  I’ve been with my share of men — all thought they could eat pussy. I’ve been with exactly one woman — all my men put together could never eat pussy like her.

  It’s not that men suck at eating women out, it’s that eating pussy is a learned skill most men don’t care to acquire. The secret, which Carmen clearly knew, was reading your partner’s signs. She was attentive, even when eating like a hog at the trough. Carmen is a woman, with a pink pussy of her own, and she treats mine like she wants hers treated. Her first lick is always slow, especially when compared to Mark’s almost obnoxious vigor. She also moans and groans through her oral, showing me that she loves what she’s doing as much as I love that she’s doing it. Best of all, Carmen knows how to make me feel after I cum.

  Mark still doesn’t, and I’ve been telling him for years.

  Carmen licked and lapped me, nuzzled deep, fucking me sloppily with her tongue, not better than I would get with a dick, but more soulful, somehow deeper in a way that I craved. Her knees were mashed to the tile floor, hands slithered up under my legs, pressed into flesh. I screamed from my wide open mouth, pushing at the back of Carmen’s head to see if she could go even deeper than she was.

  She couldn’t, but did wiggle her entire face back and forth, slopping her cheeks and my inner thighs as I fell back on my right hand and used the other to paw at my tits.

  I jerked my head back, thinking this can’t get any better.

  Carmen reached up and squeezed my tit harder as she flicked her tongue into my soaking hole, and everywhere around it. She started going slower as I leaned back and fondled my breasts, both at once, pinching my nipples as Carmen came up for air. She looked up from between my lightly trembling legs and showed me her long tongue, hanging out of her mouth, soaked from spit and pussy.

  She gently nudged my inner thighs and dragged her tongue from the bottom of my open lips to the bud up top, then repeated the motion many times, until my body started making involuntary lurches, popping my ass up from the counter.

  I whimpered for Carmen. She drifted up to my mouth and kissed my lips, dragging her body against me. Hard nipples brushed my flesh, pointing out from her swollen breasts. Carmen led me from the counter to my feet, and laid a carpet of kisses along my skin, starting from the back, slowly, one long kiss at a time, just long enough for me to feel her mouth’s moisture before moving on.

  Carmen feels most like a man when behind me, when she’s almost predatory. Her stance is like a man’s, though everything else is so perfectly female: how she finishes a row of kisses at the small of my back then drags her tongue back to my neck, the way she runs her palm all over my ass cheeks like cloth across a vintage Ferrari as her other hand snakes to my breasts. How her hand at my ass slips underneath and up, finds my slippery folds, then pets them just as she would with her own.

  Carmen’s hand stroked me from behind with long sweeps repeated. Her hot breath fogged my ear, other hand in my hair, teasing me with her touch. She moved faster, sliding back and forth in ever-quickening strokes until two fingers slipped inside me. Carmen held me, then started to rock her hand, pushing its heel against my pussy, two fingers inside as she fondled my tits — right arm sweeping around from the other side as I moaned, clenched, and writhed against her hand.

  Carmen pushed her body against me from behind. I moaned louder. Then she dragged her naked top down my body on the way to her knees. Her fingers left me. I whined, wriggled, and waited through another too-long and too-painful second before Carmen speared two fingers back into my hole. Then I felt something else, something new, something Carmen had never made me feel before. Something I never thought I would feel because I had never thought about feeling it before. Yet, from the second I did, I knew I would have to again.

  If Mark wouldn’t lick my asshole like a good boyfriend, I’d have to see Carmen again sooner than usual.

  After she stabbed me over and over, stuffing her tongue past my slippery lips with a delicious squishing, Carmen drifted to my asshole. I was surprised at first — I made a slight yelp and jumped an inch from the floor — then realized what she was doing, relaxed, and let pleasure bloom inside me.

  Every time Carmen pushed into my pussy with her tongue, she made a long lap that also dug into my asshole, different from but no less pleasurable than the digging in my cunt.

  Carmen French kissed my asshole as she plunged her fingers deeper into my cumhole. My juices dripped and dribbled onto her knuckles and hand.

  I came hard, I’ve no idea how many times.

  Part of me wanted to tell Mark all about this, wanted him to know, thought that maybe if I shared it with him, we could find it between us. Maybe then I wouldn’t need Carmen.

  But that wasn’t possible.

  One secret had led to many. Now there was too much to unravel.

  The way Carmen was eating my cunt and ass, I could barely think. It was perfect, and I wanted to make Carmen feel as good as she had made me feel, as good as she always made me feel. I wanted to make her feel better than she had ever felt before, better than anyone else ever could. I wanted Carmen to ache for me, starting the second she left.

  I begged Carmen for her mouth. She gave it to me, still turning from behind while cupping my breasts. I gave her more of my mouth, craning my neck into mutual pleasure.

  Carmen pushed herself harder against me, putting her lips and hands all over my body. As much as I loved the feel of her warm tits at my naked back, it was too much. I turned and took control, grabbing Carmen and spinning to face her. I kissed her hard, now on top and pushing my face into hers, tasting her as she had tasted me, pawing her body and squeezing her tits, both at once, my fingers tugging at her nipples before sliding down her middle, my tongue dragging her skin on the way.

  I had never been hungrier for pussy. I was anticipating her sight and scent, the noise we would make when I licked her, and the one we would make after I’d slipped my fingers inside. I anticipated the feel of Carmen’s juice on my skin, face, and tongue.

  I fell to my knees and tugged at her pants. My tongue went to her center. Carmen’s arms flailed behind her, palms landing with a loud slap on the counter. I reached up, grabbed her left tit, and squeezed it hard with my right hand, hoping it hurt in a good way. Carmen grunted, not like a lady.

  I clamped my mouth tighter, sucking her harder. Carmen set her hands over mine, pressed them into her skin, then, as if that drew too much attention away from her pussy, returned to the table and ground her hips harder against my mouth.

  I flicked my tongue, brushing her lips, darting into the opening, then withdrawing to do it again. She shook, rattled, trembled around my mouth. Shoulders thrashed, whimpers tore through her body.

  The harder Carmen screamed, the harder I clamped and suckled. I felt her cum — thighs trembling like autumn leaves on either side of my head — and my face was suddenly soppy.

  Sticky, I raised my eyes to her. She looked radiant: falling down from a hard orgasm, laughing. Carmen whispered, “Thank you,” from behind her frayed breath, then climbed back on the counter with one leg up — knee high and foot flat — the other dangling over the side.

  She clamped her hand on my head and grunted, “I need it.”

  I dove into Carmen, nose landing at the spot where her leg met her yummiest part and tongue hitting her oven-hot clit. Tongue met cunt. I slipped a finger inside her and started to plunge.

  I matched thrusts and flicks between finger and tongue. Carmen heaved and moaned, sucking her own fingers because she had nothing else to suck on. I wondered if she thought of my pussy, Steve’s cock, or someone else entirely.

  I felt a sudden flush of shame as I ate Carme
n harder, thinking about what I knew that she didn’t. She mashed her pussy against my face as I added another finger, straightened both, and miraculously managed to speed my thrusting while pinching her tits. Carmen came on my face, at least as many times as I had just come on hers, screaming louder, breathing even more raggedly, her hand more insistent at the back of my head, pushing my face deeper into her.

  She practically yanked me up, desperate for my mouth, and slapped at my hand to make sure my fingers stayed where they belonged.

  We kissed hard as my fingers sloshed inside her and I curled them into her sweetest spot. Her whimpers tightened, rang closer together. She smashed herself against my hand, lifting up from the counter and making tiny circles with her cunt around my fingers. She grabbed my wrist, guided my hand, and stirred my intensity, wrapping her arms around my neck, urging me to take over, surrendering into a long moan, like a whistle of air leaving a balloon.

  I rubbed Carmen as she continued to cum, softening my strokes as she fell. Our scent was everywhere. I wondered if I should worry.

  Her body trembled with aftershocks as she made a few more bucks against my hand. We started to kiss.

  We had crashed through the first of our orgasms. We could light candles and move things around, bury the evidence of our beautiful union, open a bottle of wine and maybe do it again before our men came home, softer the second time, less in a hurry.

  I told myself to stop thinking of Steve. I never felt guilty for Carmen because it was chemical, it just was. And because she was a woman, it wasn’t really cheating on Mark.

  But with Steve I feel like I am to blame.

  It only happened that once, and I know it will never happen again — I will never ever let it — but I was the one who let it.

  Because I felt guilty.

  When he said, “I think Carmen might be seeing someone else,” I knew what had to be done to keep him from digging.

  Now I have secrets from everyone.

  the end

  INSPIRED BY THE VIDEO “DEEP LONGING” ON X-ART

  CLICK OR VISIT THE LINKS BELOW FOR MORE:

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  http://leximaxxwell.com/x-art

  WITH EXPLICIT PHOTOS

  http://x-artstories.com

  Play Me

  Jasmine swam in circles as Scott watched from the pool.

  It was risky, but risk was dessert, and the longer they took, the sweeter the sugar.

  As promised, Scott had found the perfect spot. It was gorgeous: tall palms, banana trees, glistening water. An oasis around them. The house was high on a cliff, and it had taken ages to get there, first to drive, then to scale the hill from the bottom, before sneaking by the gate at the top.

  Jasmine and Scott loved to fuck in open spaces, getting high on the chance of discovery. They had turned their exhibitions into art, getting away with their public fucking, almost always. The few times they had been caught so far had led only to slaps on the wrist and smiled warnings. Never anything serious, or permanent.

  They had been doing it for years and had steadily elevated their level of risk. The mini-golf course, Wendy’s, the library (three times_, Hill of Beans twice, once in the open because they wanted to see how long it would take if they tried to stay invisible, and more times than either could tabulate, where there hadn’t been penetration, but Jasmine had in one way or another managed to milk Scott empty of spoo.

  The one time, when they were right out in the open trying to see exactly what they could get away with, Jasmine had sat on Scott’s cock, pushed up inside her beneath a long skirt, and slowly stirred her body until he finally, after nearly an hour, shuddered, sputtered, then shot up inside her. Everyone around them knew, some had probably started to suspect a few minutes before he actually lost it, but neither Scott nor Jasmine was embarrassed. They stood from their oversized armchair and left the Hill of Beans. Cum drizzled from Jasmine’s flaring cunt, and rolled from her ankle as Scott held the door.

  They started looking for a different sort of risk after that. People’s homes, specifically. It was Scott’s job to scout locations, and monitor candidates to heighten their odds, striking a fine balance between risk and security.

  So far, Jasmine and Scott had shared a few solid adventures. But nothing like this place. They had been there four times before. Scott said the fifth made them addicted. Jasmine said maybe not, but that having their next three visits plotted on the calendar when they plotted nothing else, certainly did.

  She smiled at Scott from the water. Jasmine was dazzling, wading under the bluest sky, her eyes glinting against the waterfall to her left. Scott turned, playfully flipping his body so his back was facing Jasmine: her cue to leave the water.

  Scott pictured her swimming to the edge, and lifting herself onto the ground. He regretted turning since now he couldn’t see the perfect swing of her beautiful breasts.

  Jasmine’s shadow draped his body, then he felt her body between his knees. He pictured her crouched, leaning above him as she swept her hands down his side, rubbing his ass and pushing her fingers against his flesh.

  He turned, and their lips met. She loved to kiss. Sometimes, their kisses went on forever. This time, she brushed him, then pulled away. She set her breasts on display, shrugging her shoulders with a twittering bounce: showing them to Scott, inviting him to play.

  He brushed one, the other, then both with a stretched hand and a thumb on one nipple. She sighed as she pushed herself against his hand. Scott groaned, kneading Jasmine’s breast harder in his hand and pushing himself into her kiss. Her mouth met his, she kissed him like he wanted, then pulled away and put his hand back on her tit.

  “More,” she whispered.

  Scott fondled her breasts, without surrendering her mouth. He teased her lips with his, softly palming her, gently squeezing as he pressed her breasts flat to her body, rubbing in small, delicate circles. Jasmine looked down at Scott’s hard-on, then wrapped it in her hand. She felt so good, so comforting, so right. Exactly what he needed. She kept her hand circled around it, lightly stroking, pumping him from the bottom as he kissed her. He could feel her body starting to give, knew how wet she would be if he slipped his hand into her bottoms.

  She stroked him faster, kissed him harder, and pulled away from his face. His hand left her breast as she turned her chin to the sky. Her hand went to her breast, replacing his. Jasmine squeezed herself as her hand slipped past her stolen bikini’s elastic and into her pussy.

  She stroked him faster as she curled her fingers around his wrist and pushed his hand harder against her pelvis. He dipped his fingers deeper inside her as he lightly thrust his dick into her other hand. She whimpered, pushed her body against his fingers, wiggling around and coating them with lube. She used Scott’s cock to steady herself as she went to her knees. He tried to unfasten her bikini bottoms, but Jasmine batted his hand, left him with a kiss, kneeled into his cock, paused with her lips at his tip, then slowly lowered her mouth down the top, running her tongue underneath it.

  Scott groaned and pushed up into her mouth. Jasmine moaned like she loved it, bobbing. He looked down at her swallowing his sword and got harder in her mouth. He was throbbing, watching her tits sway in time with her sucking. Almost involuntarily, Scott reached his hand out to her ass, sliding his hand down past the elastic and onto her cheek.

  She tightened her lips around his dick, kept them at the top, and bobbed faster, making Scott ache at his base. Danger tickled his body, like he knew it was doing to hers.

  Their sex was great, but never better than with pounding hearts. Danger took them to places they never went otherwise. But it had been growing increasingly difficult to mine new thrills from old experiences. This place was perfect.

  Jasmine licked Scott’s dick like a lollipop, giving it pressure between her tight lips as she lightly stroked it, humming around his shaft. She occasionally looked up, giving Scott her widest eyes and most devilish grin, daring him to pull his dick from her mouth and stuff it ins
ide her.

  Scott suffered his pleasure, moaning and groaning through his hummer, eyes flitting from Jasmine’s wonderful work to the grounds, then back down to her swaying tits. He reached out and grabbed her, fondling her with his open palm. Jasmine laughed and shrugged him away, then looked up, his dick still in her mouth, and shook her head back and forth: no, no, no, then returned to her bobbing.

  She loved to see how close she could get Scott to cumming, using only her mouth, without him actually losing his load. She would take him to the edge of ultimate pleasure, then pull away, sometimes repeatedly until he begged for release. Sometimes, she surprised him, and took him all the way. On those days, Jasmine said, he came half a gallon. Scott buttered her breasts a few times a month, and came in her mouth a few more than that. But mostly Jasmine loved it in her pussy.

  She popped off from the top, tightened her lips, and slid them up along his length several times in each direction, getting his dick nice and slippery.

  He had to fuck her, and wouldn’t last much longer standing above her, watching her tits sway as her knees dug into the cushion below. Scott swallowed, trying to manage his breath as Jasmine wrapped her fingers tighter around his cock, and started sucking him faster.

  I have to fuck her.

  This place brought out Jasmine’s best. Unlike the last one.

  Scott had been sure it would be great, but was totally off. He found a house at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac. On paper, it fit Jasmine’s criteria perfectly: a home with amazing things she would never have. She wanted to fuck on fine bed sheets she could never afford, eat from pantries with foods she had only read about, clothes she could prance in — like the pretty, black bikini bottoms she wore at the Andersons’ pool, while on her knees and swallowing cock.

  The house in the cul-de-sac was beautiful, but abandoned. The family’s itinerary was stuck to the fridge: they would be gone for a week. Scott and Jasmine stayed in the house and enjoyed the family’s many nice things, but it wasn’t the same. They missed the thrill, the danger, the risk of exposure. Staying in the family’s home without danger of their return didn’t feel risky. It felt like trespassing. They left the second day, and Scott started looking for something else. It was a month before he found something better than either had ever imagined.