August 1, 2007
Beth the Little Bit


cydytame044.jpgI’d met Beth online because a mutual fuckbuddy of ours wanted to have a threesome. We both independently considered him a tool, but a fun sort of tool, like maybe a rhinestone setter. Perhaps you don’t need or want a rhinestone setter everyday, but when you have the sudden desire to bedazzle a garment, it’s a good thing to have.

Brad was a Bedazzler, though not a bedazzler.

And he wanted a threesome with us. So we met, just li’l Beth and I, one evening at a bar near my house. It was a beautiful summer evening, and we sat outside. Beth, who crests 5′0″ in her stocking feet, was wearing this Mae West parody of a Ladies Who Lunch suit-all big hot pink and black herringbone with a skirt just barely long enough to tuck under her ass when she sat.

Our mutual Bedazzler Brad had a predilection for women with big breasts. I have big breasts. Li’l Beth has enormous breasts. She also has a little Jewish kewpie doll face with blue eyes and curly blonde hair. So when she perched on the chair, her tan legs tucked demurely side by side, sipping her Diet Coke, she looked like a 40’s pin-up, like something that a fighter plane would have had painted on its side.

We liked each other. We giggled about Brad’s unmistakable toolery. We bonded lightly, kissed good-bye chastely, and called it a day pleasantly.

Through a bizarre telemetry of events, it happened that a month or so after Beth’s and my unrequited threesome tête-à-tête, I had found myself waking on a bright Saturday morning with plans to fuck Beth later that afternoon.

I met Beth at her apartment. It looked like the girl’s version of the standard-issue Manhattan Bachelor Pad. Lots of technology, but technology bookended by pictures of her friends and family. A great big couch dominating her living room, but the couch was off-white fabric, rather than the masculine black leather. Several framed 30’s Expressionist prints, but prints of films adverts, rather than aperitif adverts.

We made small talk. And then, finally, I got bored and kissed her. I found her mouth soft and flower-pouty under mine, her tongue darting gently between my open lips. Led her to her bedroom and undressed her. Found her body smooth and incessantly curvy, found her full breasts uptipped with pink rosebudy nipples.

Laid her on the bed and found her compliant and pliant under me, as I stripped my own clothing off piece by piece.

Li’l Beth lay on the bed and submitted to my playing and ministrations. I kissed her neck, inhaling that girly girl scent of freshly washed girl throat. I traced spidery caresses down her sternum, across the dales of her generous belly, across her runner’s flanks, down her thighs. I touched and kissed and caressed and generally played the fucking cool smooth lithe panther to her tender joints of meat.

Beth was oddly response-reduced. After Brad’s gushing endorsements of her sexual charms, I’d expected a dynamo under me. I’d expected a nymphette of glossy silicone valley proportions. Instead I got a lackadaisical kind of reply to my questing caresses. She kissed me back, she sighed when I touched her, but there wasn’t a lot of …oomph.

There was not so much ooh in the ooh-la-la.

I persevered. I trudged on down the small landscape of her body, trying to raise her body heat from the temperate zone, and I landed my nose in the fertile delta of Beth’s freshly shaved blonde pussy. I parted her thighs wide, and began licking her mons, her labia, separating the lips with my tongue, licking gently and insistently, as I myself like to be licked.

Like mine, Beth’s pussy is slitty and small with flat lips and a tiny clit. I curled one hand around her small hips and used it to part her pussy lips, peeling them up and back to expose her clit to my tongue and mouth. I licked and suckled her, feeling her grow under my mouth and become a bit slicker with her wetness.

But not much slicker. I don’t know how you feel about the pussy you’re licking, but I like to lick a very wet pussy. Dry pussies don’t excite me much. I like the visual and visceral signifiers of pleasure: I like my cocks hard as Hemingway’s prose and I like my pussies wet and flowery as Wordsworth’s poetry. I am fine if during my oral pleasuring said cock or said pussy becomes hard and/or wet, but I really need to see the hardening or the wettening to reassure me that what I’m doing is all good.

Beth didn’t get so wet. Which made me wonder if perhaps my bi-sexual license had expired and no one from the home office had notified me.

“I need your finger inside me,” she said, “or nothing is going to happen.”

I licked my right middle finger and slid it slowly inside her tight pussy, I rotated my palm up toward my face and curled my finger slightly to search out Beth’s g-spot. I found it, slightly rough under my tip, and I rubbed it gently.

Almost immediately, a change. Beth’s body became animated, and she began bucking against my open mouth, jutting her hips against my mouth, rubbing her pussy against my finger.

Her gyrations became more and more and increasingly more violent. Her body was moving up and down inches at a time as she slammed her pussy against my open mouth, my extended tongue, my slightly curled finger. From my vantage point, I could see her breasts bouncing with the effort, her breathing labored and small half-moans strangling in her throat.

Beth’s movements grew frenzied, frenzier, frenziest, bucking and jutting against my mouth and hand. I felt like the scratching post of a kitty in heat and I just held on for the ride, trying to give her contact, and I could hear her moans growing in intensity and volume, feel her pussy grabbing at my finger more and more until the undulations of her cunt matched the ululations of her voice and she came at length and with luster.


Comments

3 Responses to “Beth the Little Bit”

  1. Curvaceous Dee on August 2nd, 2007 1:43 am

    Once again your phrasing blows me away: I like my cocks hard as Hemingway’s prose and I like my pussies wet and flowery as Wordsworth’s poetry.

    Lovely!

    xx Dee

  2. la fille on August 3rd, 2007 12:14 pm

    Loved this! One of my favourite lines ever on any blog:

    “Beth didn’t get so wet. Which made me wonder if perhaps my bi-sexual license had expired and no one from the home office had notified me.”

  3. t'Sade on August 8th, 2007 7:36 am

    Oh, yummy. And I love the license bit too. :D

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