But something changed in me, a switch had flipped on ever since we began our conversation. Maybe it was from reading all the naughty stories, watching all the skin flicks, but suddenly my body pulsed uncontrollably and I was compelled to obey, magnetically drawn to Mr. Jones’s aura. So with a slow, hesitant hand, I began playing with my tits, rubbing them, massaging and squeezing huge handfuls of the white flesh, my nips pink and rosy.
“Take your other tit out,” Mr. Jones commanded darkly. “Let me see them both.”
And obediently, I pulled my left boob out of the suit as well so that both of my girls were free, mountainous and creamy, the Double D jugs standing out to there. With clever fingers, I pulled at my nipples, tracing circles around the sweet pink tips, corkscrewing off them with audible pops before bringing one, then the other, to my mouth for a deep lick, then a quick suckle. Because yeah, that’s one of the benefits of my changed body. I’m now able to lick and kiss my own boobs, there’s enough breastflesh so that I can push them all the way up to my mouth, tongue myself while sparks shoot from my nipples to my cunt.
And from the way the big man was breathing, his eyes glued to my form, his huge body rock hard, filled with unleashed power, I could tell he was massively turned on. So coyly, I raised one to Chris, waving it in small circles, the pink nipple hard and wet from my saliva.
“Come and taste?” I cooed softly, looking up at him between my lashes.
And something flared in the big guy’s eyes then. He wanted to, I could tell he would have given anything to get on his knees beside me and dive into my creaminess, but it was his bulk that was shielding us from the partygoers’ gaze. So instead, with deft hands, he pulled his entire cock out of his swim trunks and began fisting it, balls high and tight, the massive length heavy, deep pink, and glossy. I wanted so bad to taste, to feel that fuckpole inside me, but I was just as stuck. I couldn’t move on the lounger without giving us away, without letting other people in on our secret. So instead I did the next best thing. Reaching for my Coke, I picked it up and put to my mouth as if taking a sip. It was a throwback bottle, the kind that’s green glass with a narrow bottle neck flaring into a circular base. And with a coy smile, my pink tongue flickered out, lapping lightly at the neck before circling around the bottle head, lubing it up, getting it warm.#p#分页标题#e#
“This is all for you, Mr. Jones, all for you,” I said breathily, never breaking eye contact as the big man fisted his dick, his hand a blur now. And with a sigh, I parted my legs, pulling the tight nylon to one side and hooking it over my labia so that my pussy was completely uncovered, everything exposed, creamy and wet for him.
“See Mr. Jones?” I panted, canting my hips up so that he could look into my pussy, spreading my lips a bit so that my inner channel was visible, my clit huge and stiff. “Is this what you wanted to see?”
And I began sliding the coke bottle up and down my pussy lips, wetting the glass, the clear green growing smoky with my cum.
“Oh fuuuuuck,” came the groan from above, the man’s eyes fixated on my steaming cunt, the penetration that was about to happen.
I giggled. I’ve never had a man so turned on for me, so completely under my spell and it lit something within, made me into a girl I didn’t recognize. So going with the flow, exploring this new side of me, I did the unthinkable. With a deft flick of my wrist, I slipped the coke bottle inside, just half an inch, my pussy lips parting and squeezing wetly around the round head.
“Ohhh!” I moaned quietly, throwing my head back, eyes closed. My nips were pointed up in the air, my boobs creamy and full as I fucked myself with the glass bottle. “Ohhh!” I moaned again.
Suddenly the conversation in back of us paused for a moment.
“Was that a dog I heard?” asked a female voice.
“Maybe it was a dying squirrel,” smirked a male voice in return.
And Chris and I held our breaths, eyes open and alarmed, our bodies tight as we paused, breathless, waiting. But soon the hubbub of voices started up again and we went back to our wicked ways. Slowly, oh so slowly, I inched the bottle up my puss, the green glass hard, smooth and relentless in my channel. I slid it in partway and then pulled it out, moaning low in my throat as the glass reappeared between my cunt lips, coated in cream. The big man growled deeply, his hand fisting his dick at light speed as my pussy gushed and streamed with white, clit stiff and trembling in the air.
Suddenly my mom’s voice cut in.
“Lindy!” she sang out, “Can you help me in the kitchen please?”