The Fantasies of Jaime

“Remember now, Oliver,” Jamie said. “Just tongue, lips, teeth. No fingers. No penetration. That’s for me. Not for you.”

“Got it,” Oliver said. He sounded as breathless as I felt.

He looked at her, slowly at first. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment tinted with need. What did he think of her? Of this? Of us?

But then she saw the hump in his khakis and realized he had an erection. A quite sizable one if she wasn’t mistaken. She forgot all that when he bent forward, almost as if in prayer, and kissed her inner thighs.

First one, then the other. He dragged his soft bee-stung lips up to the very top of her thigh where the skin was the most sensitive. He kissed a maddeningly faint line across her mound and then down the other side. When her hips lifted up to meet his mouth, to tempt him, he finally gave them both what we clearly wanted.

His mouth clamped down on hers, his lips soft and hot. His tongue parted hers, slickening her already juicy pussy with his saliva. His tongue painted insistent swirls on her clitoris until she was gripping the arms of the chair and moving her body up to meet him.

Jamie sat and watched. His cock was hard, that much she could tell. His eyes were shiny, mouth set in a fine amused line. He was enjoying this almost as much as she was, she realized with shock.

It had never occurred to her that this fantasy of hers did anything for him. But clearly, it did.

“Make her come,” he whispered.

Oliver sealed his mouth to hers, using the rigid tip of his tongue to nudge her clit over and over and over until she was panting for breath. Then he stopped. His mouth hovered near her pussy, but he’d pulled back. He didn’t touch her. Her head pounded with blood, and she shifted restlessly. I wanted to come. I needed to come. Desperately.

Oliver glanced up at her with his pretty, gem-coloured eyes and gave her a crooked grin. Then he blew a warm breath across her damp sex. Before she could register this new tactic, his mouth was back on her, his tongue back at her. Working her.

She came with a rough cry and an eager thrust of her hips. Thrusting up with such force she felt the bite of his upper teeth against the smooth skin of her mound.

She sank back and sighed. Then She began to laugh.

“Good?” Jamie asked. She could tell he was asking both of us.

“Good,” she echoed, trying to catch her breath.

“One more?” Oliver said.

Before she could answer, Jamie nodded once and said, “Yeah, but after that first one she’s really sensitive. So you’ll have to hold her legs.”

She blinked but had no time to react in any other way before Oliver pinned her legs wide with his large hands. He had very long fingers she noticed, and she wondered wildly what it would be like if Jamie would let him stick one or two in her. What it would feel like if he fucked her with those fingers.

The sensation of his mouth back on her swept me under. As he lapped at her with a stranger’s tongue, holding her with a stranger’s hands, She felt like it was all too much. The pleasure bordered on pain, and it threatened to eat her alive. To crush her.

“Please, please…” she muttered.

Through her nearly shut eyes, she saw Jamie nod with confidence. “Keep going. She always says that. And then you hit a point where —”

The next lick from Oliver sent a shiver through her. A steamy gush of pleasure filled her lower body. Jamie laughed.

“There it is. We always hit a point where the pleasure beats out the sensitivity.”

She wriggled in the seat, feeling how plump and ready she was. How slick and willing. In her mind, she let Oliver shove those long, thick fingers into her. She let him play her like his own personal instrument. She let him fuck her with thick digits while eating her pussy as if his life depended on it.

“And there it is…” Jamie chuckled as she came for the second time, her voice a rough ghost of its former self. She clutched at Oliver’s lush, dark hair as if she were sinking.