THE GIRLS AND ME -- PART 3 (F^M)
(Disclaimer: This a work of adult fiction, do not read it if you are underage or if explicit and alternative sex discriptions offend you.)
After that every time Pammy came over she would fuck me with her strap-on dick. Or mine. She gave me one as a present, just like she did to Shelly that night. Gave her a strap-on, I mean.
I looked forward to seeing her. It was my first experience with a woman who liked to play the boy with me and employ my feminine urges. I guess they were feminine. Although she often dressed me in frills and silk, and called me slut, pussy and whore, I never felt like she left off enjoying me as a man. It seemed like it was the very fact of my masculinity that was essential to her erotic satisfaction. The hungry consumption of my long penile pleasure stick shuddering and spewing, spasms of orgasms from creamy bulbous mushroom head through like a hot rail through to the clit inside my nether lips. She knew how to milk my prostrate, massage the cum juice right out of that organ. Slowly, we loved to manage that member, so drops and streams of semen came, that we each tasted in turn. The salty precious sperms imbuing us from within our throats so no part of us failed to share in the carnal love.
For my part I loved succumbing to her wiles and charm; descending dreamily beneath her dominating fleshy imagination. Dominating? It could feel dangerous. When I found myself getting self-conscious I would just think: "Submit to her. Don't want, or need or think you know where it's going, or should go. Let her take you and use you in her own private fantasies and desires. Be a mirror to her libido, give expression to her unrealized desire. Just respond and appreciate every minute while it lasts." Every minute of her intimate manipulations of my private carnal organs. Express my desire to be used and fucked by her thrusts and strokes. A phallus and a vulva beneath her wanton fingers and clitoris. Man, was I lucky.
Stroke my clitoris, baby. Make my pussy cry. I'll fall to my knees to eat you, your perfumed lips swollen, dripping the cum nectar into mine; brilliant tear drops and sighs, slaking my thirst for abandon in the manifold ejaculating mound-hill of your venus in thighs, wet crack of volcanic spume, squirting in to me from your big cock monster clitoris honoring me with pleasure to be your fuck, baby. You might say I looked forward all week or day or whatever, to when she would come again to me. And in to me, and all over me.
My wife, Shelly, knew Pammy was doing me, but I don't think she knew the depth and dimension of it. To Shelly it was all sex, which it was, but to Shelly it was just sex. In a superficial way. She herself loved Pammy's company, and since Pammy kept Shelley's fat juicy snatch all squishy, excited and satisfied, she allowed Pammy to diddle and dally and play with me, amused to watch her dyke sweetie pole the boy toy, because Pammy had the capacity to make her benefactress experience this adulterous indulgence as their own sapphic foreplay. After she was through with me, I watched enviously at the girls' lesbian couplings, feeling used. Humiliatingly, excitingly and deliciously used. And jealous of the pussy being fucked by the cunt clit between Pam's thighs.
I began to feel less like Shelly's husband and more like her unappreciated love slave. On loan for her amusement.
Eventually, after some time passed, Pammy even began to stop by when Shelly was away. And I took to meeting her at the door on those occasions in a skirt, and panties, and sometimes high heeled shoes. Black. She didn't really care what I had on top, if anything. At least not until after she'd had me bend over the nearest counter, table or chair, and fucked me with her prosthetic dick. Her big long creamy, blue-veined throbbing dick that she wore under her pants or skirt so there would be no delay to her satisfaction. She would come up behind me, me wearing textured hose and a garter belt, bent over with my white ass stuck up as high as my spike heels would allow, and drive it right into my hole. We did it so much that my ass felt like a horny pussy that just couldn't get enough. It yearned between visits for that good fucking.
Sometimes I would prepare before she came by attaching the strapon she gave me to a chair so that I could back into it or sit on it and get my hole all lubed up, stretched out for her super clit. Oh, don't get me wrong, she liked to force it in and feel me hurt; but, she also like to see me bent over all glistening and horny. And especially she like to see the chair where I had prepared, even to watch me fuck myself on it. Many times after she had fucked me and come, she would sit back on the sofa stroking her wet sticky dick and encourage me to masturbate while taking that strapon up my butt. I would make quite a show of it for her.
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