The water filled a little more and she put her leg up on the side of the tub. Reaching between her legs, she slowly stroked along the sides of her mound, inspecting it softly. She knew it was all the rage these days to be clean shaven, like a little pre-pubescent girl, but Stephanie liked her soft ginger pubic hair. She kept herself clean, of course, shaving the sides of her lips clean, but the triangular tuft of curly hair was something she didn’t think she could ever part with. Even when her lover didn’t revel in it, she loved to sit alone and absent mindedly pet it when she was bored or as prelude to more personal, carnal indulgences. She grabbed the razor beside the sink, dipped it in the hot water, and with a few strategic flicks, restored her treasure to optimal appearance. Satisfied, Stephanie pulled up her golden hair into a bun and stepped into the tub, quickly sliding down into the warm depths of the frothing water.
It was “Date Night” for Stephanie. One of the girls at work had asked her what she was doing this Friday night, and she had satisfactorily replied “Not much, just staying home by myself.” Most single girls she knew went out every weekend, and she enjoyed the bars and the parties as much as anyone, but Stephanie didn’t like the eternal parade of men some women seemed to indulge in. No, Stephanie, at 28, had entertained only six serious relationships in her life and had only had sex with four of those, and no one else. For her sex wasn’t cheap…well…unless she wanted it to be and even then it was only with a guy she trusted. Stephanie dated a lot of guys and was eternally in search of Mr. Right, but she knew that sex wasn’t going to be the way to make that happed. However, she was still as ravenous a vixen as any of her boy maven friends, but to placate her lust she had developed a pattern of “Date Nights” in which she went on a date with herself and would make herself cum again, and again until she just couldn’t take it anymore. Date Nights usually came around when she’d been single for a particularly long amount of time and really needed the kind of attention that casual masturbation just couldn’t sate.
Stephanie reached out of the water, took her wine glass, sipped from it and smiled.
Stephanie set down her wine glass and reached out and removed the hand sprayer from it’s mount on the side of the tub. She turned on the water and tripped the knob to refocus the water. Adjusting the temperature to very, very warm. Smiling with almost giddy satisfaction, she adjusted the head to the rhythmic pulse setting, and slid the sprayer into the water and between her legs.
Stephanie wasn’t bisexual. At least she didn’t think so. But she had to admit that most of her masturbation fantasies did involve women. She could probably be classified as bi-curious, she figured. She wasn’t sure if she actually wanted to be with a girl, she doubted it, but she loved women, and women’s bodies. Particularly their breasts. She loved tits. She especially loved saying ‘tits’. But not as much as she loved hearing other girls say it. Stephanie smirked and shifted in the tub, the water pounding soothingly against her lips. Grasped her glass, she took a sip of wine. She preferred to move the water jet around her mount at first, below her belly, in the corner of her thighs, and down into the taint in her crack. The tickling sensations of the tiny water pricks assaulting her skin worked brilliantly, priming her sensitivity before the real fun began.
Stephanie had neighbors down the street whom, though about ten years her senior, she really enjoyed to spend time with. The husband was a simple but nice man, and his wife a very attractive and strong willed woman with long curly brown hair. Voluptuous in every way one would think a woman should be, she was stacked, curvy and downright sexy. Stephanie always had to forcibly keep herself from staring at her neighbors breasts. They were huge, at least a double D, and on her slender frame, with the tight low cut shirts she wore, Stephanie was simply in awe. One night she was at their house late on a very hot night, sitting on their back porch and drinking wine. Probably a little too tipsy, her neighbor caught her in a long, soulful glance at her breasts. The low curving swoop of her red shirt presented the older woman’s cleavage brilliantly, hot and glistening with her sweat. Stephanie thought of that night now. She pictured her neighbor’s breasts that night, and pictured her licking her skin, kissing her cleavage, tasting her sweat…
“Nnnuuugh,” She moaned. She had deftly moved the pulsing water to massage her slit. She always liked to cum like this first time on Date Night. It was always so good and so gentle on her pussy that it helped her go longer. She liked to rotate the spray around and around in small motion, massaging her lips, touching on her clitoris, and moving off, teasing her clit again and again. She worked it. Her knees bent out of the water, spread wide, torso submerged to her neck, both hands gripping the sprayer’s shaft between her legs. Stephanie’s eyes shut tightly, she smiled, and bit her lip.
She continued to picture herself kissing her neighbor’s breasts. Her shirt was off now, and her large nipples shone in the flickering nighttime light of several Tiki torches. Stephanie kissed and licked at them, consuming her sweat, tasting her saltiness. She thought of kissing her nipples, hard and erect from the heat and the arousal. She imagined what it would be like to hold those large tits, her warm flesh filling her hand beyond capacity…
“Oh…oh…nnnuuuuuggggh,” Stephanie whimpered. Her left hand was holding her lips wide apart, her right focusing the oscillating fountain of water directly upon her clit, coaxing the orgasm out of her with gentle but incessant force. The tingling sensation erupted from her loins and quickly spread through her body. Clenching her eyes she saw the orgasm, a brilliant cascade of shimmering starry sensations dancing across her nerves. Then it subsided. Her chest heaving, she turned off the sprayer with her foot and placed it beside her. She again took hold of her wine glass and drank from it. She grinned, basking in the post-orgasmic glow, she loved the taste of the wine. She always felt that an orgasm greatly enhanced her senses for a time, and all indulgences that much more profound to experience.
About twenty minutes later, having finished her bath, Stephanie pulled her silk robe about her and strode out to the living room. Her freshly dry-blown ginger hair glistened about her shoulders as she drew the living room drapes closed. She produced a brush from her pocket and flopped girlishly onto the couch. Brushing her hair, she began flipping through channels. She eventually stopped at a fitness show with three people working out on a beach. She smiled as she continued the long brush strokes. The trio was led by a flaxen blonde with rippling abs and an annoyingly cheerful disposition. Her cohorts bounced in rhythm with her, another blonde though, with a clearly vacant stare, and a ripped fella with an dark tan and pectoral breasts that appeared to be larger than the chests of the other women. Certainly larger than Stephanie’s own. She laughed but her attention turned back to the women. She loved to watch women move. The grace of their cadence was a stark contrast to men, and something much more enjoyable to watch. She tended to like men for their personalities, their intelligence and their general disposition. Her attraction to women was purely physical, she rationalized. She couldn’t fathom the one girl’s vacuous gaze, but generally, intelligence in a woman doesn’t turn her on, although a pair of firm thighs and tight ass certainly might.
The show ended, and Stephanie got up to pour another glass of wine. She returned to her couch to find another fitness program on, this time, it consisted of three women, in a studio, dressed is tight, and rather touchingly revealing outfits, working with small hand weights. Immediately, Stephanie was smitten with the girl at the left, back. A very pretty girl around her age, she had cute short red hair pulled back in an adorable little pony tail. Her lips were sweet and formed a rather girlish curl to her smile. Contrary to the other two, she seemed to actually be enjoying herself. Maybe she was just laughing at the others. Stephanie didn’t care, she just really liked to watch her.
She set her brush down and leaned back in the couch. Without being entirely aware of her actions, Stephanie slid open her robe and began to idly play with her pubic hair. She watched the girl move, treasuring each close up shot of her. Especially when she did her squatting exercises. Stephanie would twist the hair in her fingers, then run them through, then twist again. Eventually she’d begin to lightly scratch her nails through, caressing and rubbing. Soon, she paused the program with her DVR and reached over to the end table at the corner of the couches opening the drawer. She rummaged through, past a couple decks of cards, behind a matchbox, and over some candles. From it she withdrew a small sky blue vibrator and a little bottle of clear lubricant.
Stephanie never knew when the mood might hit her, so she though it very sensible to keep a little friend in the living room. She absolutely adored the idea that friends would sit, right here on her couch, her little friend so close, and have no idea what she did there.
She giggled, and drizzled a pat of lube onto her fingers. Closing the cap and setting the bottle on the end table, she rubbed the lubrication between her thumb and fingers, warming it. With a smile she reached down between her legs. Unpausing the television, Stephanie slowly stroked the outer lips of her fair haired pussy, gently greasing the sensitive skin with the lubricant as she watcher her girl. She didn’t really entertain any thought of what she might do to the girl, specifically. She never really did that. Actually having sex with a woman wasn’t what really got her, it was just the beauty and grace of a woman’s form that turned her on so much. Stephanie did, however, stop and rewind the program during a close-up of her red-haired cutie when they panned across her face, staring at her lips, and mused about what is would be like to kiss her. Would it be like a guy? Would it be strong and sexy or would it be soft and sweet? Would she taste different? Would she like it more?
Stephanie laughed to herself and pushed her finger into her now glistening slit. Girls were just so damn cute she thought, caressing her lips around in circles. She licked the finger of her free hand and toyed with an exposed nipple. The thing about date night was that she really loved…well…loving herself. So many of her girlfriends would go out just wanting to get fucked. And they’d get it. There was no shortage of boys willing to line up to tap a willing lass. That just didn’t interest Stephanie. In fact, her indulgence in herself had often been better than a lot of her sexual forays.
Abruptly, the exercise program ended. Stephanie furled he eyebrows and glanced at the clock. She’d been fumbling with her twat for nearly a half hour and hadn’t even touched her clit. Pulling her hand out, she tickled her pubic hair again as she rewound her program back to the beginning so she could absorb the site of her red haired pet all over again. And she did. Anticipating the good bits, Stephanie toyed with her pussy, loving her clit and massaging her canal, until she was good and ready. Grabbing the bright blue vibe, she drizzled lubrication on the tip of it, and stroked it, spreading and warming the juice around it’s shaft. With a soft buzz, her little toy came to life and she slid it between her legs. She pushed the little tip of it up and down against her clitoris, tenderly touching it, then ringed the outside of her lips, only to stroke her clitoris once again. Occasionally she’d push it inside, but just to vary the effect. This little vibe wasn’t for penetration, it didn’t fill her like she liked to be filled. She had other tools for that job. No, this little guy was perfect for clitoral stimulation and she was priming herself for quite the explosion.
Spreading her legs wide, Stephanie recognized when she was getting to the close-up of her pet’s face, and hit the slow motion button on the remote. Grabbing the vibrator with both hands, she ground the humming tip against her clit, hard, then soft, hard then soft, all the while staring at the red-head’s full lips.
“Ahh, oh, oh, aaaaahhhhhhh!” Stephanie screamed suddenly, surprising herself, as the orgasm erupted within. She closed her eyes tightly, envisioning the girls lips, trying to picture how soft they were, how tender…how they might taste…
“Oh shit,” she whimpered. Cascading stars. Pleasurable burning sensations. She pulled the vibe away and rubbed with her fingers, gently prolonging…softly…slowly letting herself down…slowly…the sensations…slowly down…
Stephanie opened her eyes. The show was still moving in slow motion, the women’s bodies moving and bouncing with expression. She turned off the vibrator and set it on the end table. She returned the television to the live feed and lay there, resting, her fingers absent mindedly trailing along her naked, exposed flesh.
After a few moments, she grabbed her glass of wine, and downed the rest. She paused, however, and smelled her fingers. She loved the smell of her pussy. Grinning she inhaled deeply, then got up and headed to the kitchen. Not bothering to cover herself, her robe fell from her shoulders exposing her bare ashen torso, flush red with blood from her climax. Barefooted, she moved through the kitchen, assembling a bowl, vanilla ice cream with chocolate chunks, and hot fudge. She knew of nothing better after an orgasm than chocolate.
Stephanie returned to the couch and squatted down, sitting Indian style, spreading her robe wide (and her pussy wider) whilst eating her sundae and watching Comedy Central. The chocolate settling into her belly gave her a certain pleasant warmness that was magical after sex. She wondered why guys never seemed to experience the same sensation.
Suddenly a drop fell from her spoon onto the top of her breast. Smiling, Stephanie put the spoon in the bowl and cupped her breast, trying to lift it up and lick the chocolate off, but she couldn’t. She was just too small. She always envied girls in the pornos who could suck on their own nipples. Defeated, thought laughing, she scraped it off with a finger and devoured it.
Having finished the ice cream, Stephanie went back to the kitchen dispensed with the bowl, and poured herself another glass of wine. Fortuitously, the Daily Show came on the TV. She smiled. Stephanie had a serious crush on John Stewart.
Immediately she made her way back to the couch. Sipping wine liberally, she laughed and watched. This might not have been the typical girl’s idea of a turn on, but his looks, intelligence and humor were exactly what turned her on. Stephanie polished off two glasses of wine watching him over the next half hour. Near the end, she once again found herself fiddling with her pubic hair as her mind wandered. This time, however, she didn’t need the direct visual stimulation. Turning off the TV, Stephanie headed into her bedroom. This was where she kept the serious ordinance.
A few minutes later, armed with a large bottle of lube and a nine inch synthetic flesh dildo, Stephanie lay in bed, pillows propping her back up and holding her legs spread wide. She mused ironically that this was the exact position women gave birth in, because it was the position she most enjoyed deep penetration in. To that end, however, with several scented candles and her iPod stereo pumping a mix of the Raconteurs, Interpol, and the Shins, Stephanie stroked her toy like it were a real cock, and bit her lip in lustful anticipation.
Stephanie loved to be taken. Loved to be just taken by her man and fucked. She toyed with the edges of her slit, rubbing the lubricated tip of the dildo around and around. Stephanie was such a slut. Not in the literal meaning, because she really had not been with many different men, and none had been anything but a serious relationship. No, she was not a slut in the promiscuous way, but she was definitely a slut. She loved to be fucked. Fucked hard. Fucked often. Just taken and fucked like a rag doll until she couldn’t take it anymore.
Stephanie often mused on this, how she so needed a serious, trusting relationship to get intimate with a man, but once she’d achieved that, how what a whore she’d become. And this was how she liked it, spread legged, open and willing, hungry for him to just take her and fuck her with everything he had.
Picturing John Stewart as her violator of choice, Stephanie gripped the dildo with both hands and slowly pushed it inside her. Most of her masturbations were by way of clitoral stimulations. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever used her big dildo anytime except Date Night. But it was one of the treats she really liked about Date Night. It helped make it special. The violation she was about to inflict upon herself was exactly what she missed about having a man, not the orgasm, the cumming again and again, but the penetration, the wide open acceptance of his all consuming violation of her body.
Pushing inside, Stephanie began her assault. Long, deep strokes. Deeper & deeper each time. The most important thing about it was the rhythm. Her hips rocked, he hands pushed. Grinding, she simply fucked herself, and fucked herself hard.
“Nnnnggghhaa,” she groaned softly. She pictured John, there, between her legs, taking her. She wanted to reach back. She wanted to grab the metal head board, stretch her legs as wide as she could and just have him fuck her, do nothing but feel his cock violate her and evoke the most brilliant sensations throughout her being. But she had to do it herself. Had to concentrate on the motions, not on just the sensations. But it was still fantastic.
Even alone, she began to buck wildly. The headboard slammed against the wall. She dug the fake cock into her, groaning and panting. This wasn’t like her last two orgasms. This wasn’t soft and sweet. This was almost violent in the way she impaled herself on the toy. This is why she knew she could never give up men. She might one day toy with women, indulging in parts of their pretty bodies, but in reality, she would always need a big, stiff cock to fuck her senseless.
Still grinding, Stephanie’s clit ached. She wanted to touch it. She wanted to twiddle it and explode again but she wouldn’t. That was the easy way out. She was very proud of the fact that she could have completely vaginal orgasms, and she was determined to coax one out tonight. It was harder. It took more work, more concentration, but she loved it. Gripping the toy tightly with her loins, she clenched and tried to draw as much pleasure out of it as she could, it’s massiveness filling her, pushing her insides, fucking her deeply.
She needed to ride it, she realized suddenly. Flustered, impossibly horny and hungry to cum, Stephanie stopped, pulled it out and looked around desperately. She absolutely had to fucking ride it. Improvising she bundled her pillows together and mounted them. Sliding the dildo inside, she ground down on it and the soft mass. Imagining she’d just thrown john down on his back and was fucking him, forcing his cock to make her cum, she thrust her hips against the dildo again and again.
“Nugh, nugh, nugh,” she began to grunt with each movement of her pelvis, each stabbing attack on her slick, wet canal. Screaming, writhing, and ramming her body against the mound of pillows, Stephanie brought her orgasm into the world. It tore through her pelvis, hips, thighs and into her belly. It warmed her and filled her, consuming her mind in the spectacular pleasures. Holding her breath she gripped the dildo tighter with her cunt, every muscle in her body tensing, pressing - squeezing every last drop of the orgasm out of her.
Then she collapsed. She fell down to the bed, the dildo flopped out of her and she lay there, panting. Her bare chest heaved. Her soft lips were dry from her heavy breathing, and red from her biting. She lay there for a time, a crumpled, disheveled mess, positively glowing from her exquisite climax.
#4, #5 & #6
Stephanie awoke with a start. The orgasm had completely knocked her out. She checked the clock and realized she’d dozed for about ten minutes. Brushing her hair out of her face, she sat up. She glanced sideways at the mirror over her chest of drawers to see the mess she’d become since her bath. Again her cheeks and chest were flush from the orgasm. She smiled. She wondered what men thought of this, if they even noticed. A couple of her boyfriends had become very aware of this effect on her skin, and she could never fake an orgasm with them.
Stephanie stepped out of the bed and pulled her robe over her shoulders, but again didn’t bother to tie it in the front. She straightened her bed, grabbed the dildo, then walked into her living room. She collected her little sky blue vibe as well, and make her way to the kitchen, filled a kettle with water, put it on the stove, and then proceeded to wash her little love tools with soap and water. Finished, she carefully put each back in it’s place, just as the kettle’s whistle began to sound. She made herself a cup of thick hot chocolate, sprinkled in a few small marshmallows, and plopped her half naked self back down on the couch.
After an hour of television and a second cup of hot chocolate, Stephanie found herself twiddling her exposed pubes again. Trite that it always seemed to start this way, she thought, but she did love the silky feeling of her hair down there. Now though, her mound was puffy and sticky from the evening’s philanderings. She smiled at the thought of being so naughty all by herself. Somehow that turned her on as much as anything, the thought that she could be so turned on by herself and give herself such pleasure. She didn’t look at it as desperation, or a substitute for a real relationship. In fact, she masturbated quite a lot even when in a relationship. It was a bit of personal time, a time for her that she could enjoy in pure selfishness.
Finishing her hot cocoa, Stephanie took the cup into the kitchen, placed it in the sink, and proceeded to make her way into her bathroom. She flicked on the water in the shower, and took off her robe, hanging it in the closet. Naked, she opened a drawer beside the sink, pulled out a few clips and bound her hair up into an impromptu bun, and proceeded to cover in a shower cap. She slipped into the shower, lathered up her sponge, and went to cleansing herself of all the evening’s sticky fumblings. She loved the warm feeling of the water, all around her. Her clit was throbbing. She had so wanted to touch it when she was in the bed, so wanted to give herself that release, but she knew this was going to be better. Her soapy hands slid up and down her abdomen, around her breasts and between her thighs. The chocolate…the hot water…her belly was so warm, so hungry for more. How she loved Date Night…
After her shower, Stephanie dried herself off and walked into the bedroom where she set her iPod to run her swing mix. Swaying, she slinked her bare form back into to the bathroom to the sound of Kitty Kallen singing “I’m Beginning to see the Light”. It was nearly 10:00pm, but she sat down on her vanity chair, leaned into the counter, and began to apply her make-up.
Stephanie had about five ways of doing her make-up. There was a quick, going-to-the-store level, a typical friendly date level, an edgy clubbing style, a special formal occasion level, and what she was doing now. She had a boyfriend once who was really into mid-century aesthetics, and she found it fun too. She loved doing herself up like Betty Page or Peggy Lee and he would put on vintage records from an extensive collection of his and they would fuck all night to the archaic tunes. Though her interest in him waned, her interest in the aesthetic hadn’t and she tended to revert back to it at times. She’d tried it with a few boys but usually it emerged during date night. Over the next half hour, with the sounds of Jo Stafford, Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald, she painted her face with dark eye shadow, deep red lipstick and made her hair up big, elegant curls. Once complete, she dusted her neck, wrists and chest with perfume and stood to inspect her work. Satisfied, and with her bare ass jiggling to the trumpets in “Flat Foot Floogee”, she trotted into her closet. She emerged wearing one of her absolute favorite erotic outfits. Authentically vintage, she wore a short silk robe patterned in colorful Googie Polynesian flowers and Tiki heads that barely covered the curve of her rump, a pair of high heeled red pumps, and a thin black choker.
Stepping out of her bathroom as if she were about to meet her man lounging on the bed, Stephanie made her way over to the end table which she opened and rummaged through the back. She produced a battered pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Stephanie didn’t smoke, not really. Sometimes socially at parties, but that was it. She did, however, find it very erotic. And it was perfect for this. She slid a cigarette out of the pack, and, holding it gingerly, with Dinah Washington singing “Stairway to the Stars”, stood in front of the large mirror above her chest of drawers, facing the bed. She eyed herself, allowing her eyes to slip up and down her body, scantily clad and sexily poised. She sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed her legs, and pushed the cigarette between her fore and middle finger. She pressed the tip to her lips, and flicked the lighter. She exhaled softly, slowly, and smiled.
The very first time she’d ever realized that the sight of her own body turned her on was when she was 16. It was a Thursday and in two days there was going to be a dance at school, and she decided to practice her dance moves in front of the mirror. She had danced for a short while, wriggling her rear, her hands sliding up and down, shaking her head around. Slowly though, more and more, as she watched herself, she would turn around, shake her ass, stroke her breasts, bite her finger and tease with her eyes. She suddenly realized her moves were becoming something more akin to a burlesque than a High School dance, but she didn’t care. Sexily she had snuck little glimpses of herself, her breast, her ass all the while getting herself worked up into quite a youthful frenzy. Soon she had dropped down onto her bed and immediately masturbated herself to a wonderful little climax.
While she didn’t do it often, it had \pretty much become a staple of date night. Now, as she sat there, smoking her cigarette, she studied her lips, her hair, her eyes, and smiled. She was hot. She’d fuck her. She laughed. In fact, she was going to fuck herself.
She finished her cigarette and stood in front of the mirror, swaying slowly to Fran Warren singing “A Sunday Kind of Love”. Her hips rocked, her hands worshipped her frame. She looked at her body with anticipation, with hunger, like she was an outsider seeing herself as another. She turned around, pulled up her robe to expose her ass. She bent over, leaning on the bed, her swollen, ginger mound visible, pressed tightly between her thighs. Looking back over her shoulder, she licked her lips, thinking how another might look at her now, how they might see her pussy and want to taste it, want to kneel there behind her, press their nose in between her checks and let their tongue slide between her slick lips. She was slick, in fact. She could feel, and see the moistness glistening at the edges of her puffy red slit.
She stood again and turned around quickly as “Bei Mir Bist Du Schon” came on the stereo. Mouthing the words she danced prettily, seductively, pointing at herself in the mirror, and framing her hips with her hands. The music slowed, and she did as well, her hands starting to trace her silhouette, following the rhythm. They moved up, cupping her breasts, her hips rocking as the music sped up. She pressed them down her front, the tempo increasing, sliding them underneath the robe’s belt and pulling it apart. With a burst of trumpets, she ripped the robe open in an explosion of nakedness. Swinging her arms at either side she danced full out, twirling around, the silk robe spinning with her. She loved this song. When it finished, with a flourish, she fell back on the bed, again sitting on the edge.
She flung her hair over her shoulder and out of her face. Smiling at herself, she slid both hands down between her legs and rubbed the soft hair of her mound. Again she imagined a voyeur, watching her, violating her with their eyes as the teased them with her selfish touches. She pressed a finger into her slit softly. It slid in quickly from the abundant juices. Her thighs clenched slightly, and she withdrew it. She brought her soiled finger up to her face and, watching herself in the mirror, inhaled deeply, letting the musky sweetness of her pussy fill her senses. She smiled, and teasingly opened her lips slightly and licked her finger with the tip of her tongue, her eyes devouring the sight all the while.
She laughed and stood again. She pulled all her pillows from the head of the bed and arranged them at the center of the mattress, angled away from the mirror. She then retrieved another cigarette, lit it, and lay down on the bed, the pillows propping her up such that she had a beautiful view in the mirror of her body, legs spread, pussy bare, breasts framed in the silk flowery robe and her deep red lips exhaling long draws of smoke.
Stephanie watched herself, one hand holding the cigarette, the other twiddling the edge of her hungry pussy. She watched her hand as she moved. She examined her soft, red, engorged lips, splitting them and looking into her dark, wet hole. She made a show of it, caressing, teasing, exhibiting, until she just couldn’t take it anymore. Her poor little clit had had enough. It had to wait through the deep fucking earlier, put up with the warm water and her soapy hands, sat through he nakedly applying her makeup as she ground her thighs hotly, and now to have so blatant of touches applied to it. It could take no more, and she wasn’t going to deny it.
Stephanie took long drag on the cigarette and exhaled, then set about attacking her swollen clit. Rubbing it with the flat of all her fingers in a circling motion, dipping a few fingers inside, pulling the lubrication out and coating her exposed clit again, and again. Her chest began to heave as the familiar sensations tingled in her loins. She looked at her face, twisted in a visage of what looked to be pain, her teeth clenched, her lips almost snarling, her eyebrows furled, her eyes squinting. She looked down at her ripe pussy, he hand now feverishly working it.
Her orgasm came hard and fast. She wanted to look away, close her eyes and absorb it with her mind, but she didn’t. She watched her pussy, her hole clenching and releasing as the spasms tore through her. Juices flew from her pussy, which made her gasp. Spraying about her fingers, and onto the sheets, she could see the damp spot on the comforter in the mirror, while the aftershocks continued to pummel her. She came like this only rarely, only when she was really horny. The sight of it though, affected her, and affected her hard. Her loins continued to burn. Her mind swam with thoughts of that. She dropped her head back and closed her eyes, imagining that again…imagining her face between a pair of soft thighs…the smell of pussy filling her nostrils…the taste of pussy on her lips….a cunt spraying it’s precious orgasm all over her face…
“Nnnnuuughhhhhh!’ She roared, her hips bucking, her hand clawing as her clitoris, the second orgasm ripping her senses apart. “Ohhh, oh, oh God.”
She rode the orgasm to it’s end. Rubbing her clit, rocking her hips, again squeezing every last ounce of pleasure out of it. Breathing heavy, her vision a little blurred, Stephanie slowly came back to her senses. She brought the last of her cigarette to her lips and inhaled again. It was good, very good, but still not as good as chocolate.
She continued to study the image of herself in the mirror, so wanton, so naughty, fucking herself like a cheap whore giving herself up to any Pacific Theater flyboys to come through the door. She sat up, put her cigarette aside and straightened her hair. She took a deep breath. That was a good one. A really good one. Her clit ached, but this time it was from the punishment, not the anticipation of pleasure. But she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She needed one more. Just one more, and date night could be over and she could go to sleep. There was one more that she’d been thinking about all week.
Standing, she slid the robe off her shoulders and laid it on the bed. She delighted in the flush redness on her chest and cheeks again, but she turned, placed her hands on the bed again, and bent over to show her ass. She imagined showing it off to another, her nails scraping gently along her crack and teasing around her tight little hole. She reached up and smacked her ass hard. She laughed. That was hot. She reached up and smacked it again. That was nice, she thought, both to feel and to see.
Sexily, Stephanie climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees, her red heeled toes dangling over the edge of the foot of the bed. She laid her chest on the bed, arching her back down, turning her hips and elevating her ass. She bit her lip at the sight of herself in the mirror. This was just how the girls looked in the porno videos when they were about to take it from behind. Smiling at the thought, she reached up behind her, around her hip and fiddled with her still we slit. Her thoughts strayed to John Stewart again. She imagined him climbing up behind her, getting ready to grab her hips and plunge himself into her. She toyed with her pussy, fondling it like he might, getting it ready for his violation.
Then another thought entered her head. She thought of her neighbor. She imagined her hot neighbor with her big, succulent breasts, naked, walking up behind her in this vulnerable position, and smiling. She would smile a wicked, nasty grin and climb, kneeling, on the bed behind her, equipped with a strap-on. Stephanie laughed at the idea, her hot buxom neighbor getting ready to fuck her from behind like some cheap lesbian flick. She wondered what it would feel like. Would the fake cock feel fake, like her dildo, or would the fact that she was fucking her with it, with the motion of her pelvis, like a man would, make it feel more real? Would she grab her hips? Her back? Dig her fingernails into her flesh?
Stephanie rubbed her clit again. Her juices were definitely flowing once more. The torrid thoughts of her violation from behind were really working. She’s never masturbated in this position before. She’d never thought of it. But she heard about it from a radio show, that a woman could only masturbate on her knees, imagining a man taking her anally. The thought drove her mad all week, and she was determined to try it.
Probing, her wet finger slid across her asshole. She pushed a single finger inside. Her hips tightened, but she really liked it. It was then that another thought came to her. Gone was her neighbor and the strap-on. Stephanie, her face and chest pressed against the bed, reached down with her other hand. One beneath her, between her legs and massaging her slit, the other over the top, past the small of her back and tickling her sphincter.
She imagined her. Her pretty red haired workout cutie, standing behind her. She was not naked, but still in her workout clothes. She imagined her moving up behind her, placing a hand on either cheek of her ass, spreading them wide. Stephanie’s hand worked her raw clit, and her other, slick with pussy juice, pushed one finger, then two, into her hungry, vulnerable rump. In her mind, the redhead stretched her ass cheeks wide and, looking in the mirror, she pictured this sight of herself, bare, exposed ass in the air, and the woman’s soft cheeks and supple lips, disappearing as she pushed her face into her ass. She imagined her tongue licking at her hole…her fingers rubbed the edges…the redhead’s tongue diving in….her fingers pushing inside…
Cooing softly, she fucked her pussy as she caressed her asshole. She wanted so badly to feel the girl’s tongue violate her ass, and have her rub her pussy. The thought was incredible.
Stephanie came softly. The sparkling warmth filled her pelvis and tickled her ass. She smiled and bit her deep red lip, grinding her face and chest against the best as her hips rocked slowly, working the orgasm through her whole body.
When she was finished, she collapsed on the bed again. Slowly, half awake, she kicked off her shoes and slid beneath the sheets. She turned off the light. Slowly, lovingly, she stroked her pubic hair. Her bed would be a mess, all the makeup, all her juices, but she didn’t care. She stroked her pussy hair softly as sleep overtook her and another date night cam to a successful conclusion.
She slept soundly, he hand firmly cupping her mound lovingly, spent but thoroughly satisfied.