The Pleasure Zone(13)

Nairobia was eighteen.

My how time flew. Eighteen years later, and she was a well-seasoned, well-fucked, multi-orgasmic, dick-riding goddess. Her tongue slid over her lips. Then curled into a sly grin. She made a mental note to give Lexington a call. Just to say hallo, of course.

Thoughts of him made her horny. She spread her smooth thighs, wide. Slid a hand over her hungry sex. Toyed with her clit. Teased it ever so lightly until her nipples peaked and goose bumps lined her skin, and her body began to shudder.

Mmm.

Her free hand glided over her taut belly. Then up over her left breast. She pulled at her nipple. Lightly pinched it. Then let go.

A delicious orgasm needed to simmer, slowly. And she decided to wring hers out slowly. It would be sweet torture, but well worth the wait.

She reached for her crystal flute, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her Moët & Chandon. She swirled the bubbly around in her mouth, allowing it to settle on her tongue, savoring the elixir, before she swallowed.

Whap!

Shuddering at the thought of not being completely fulfilled sexually, she brought her hand down on her sex again. Her clit throbbed from the biting sensation. She couldn’t figure out for the life of her why she was feeling bad for the sexually neglected when it was by their own doing. It was a choice. Settling, that was. And that’s what they had chosen to do. Settle.

Ze neuken.

That’s right. Fuck them. She smoothed her hand over the sting, caressing her pretty pussy—the cunt that had launched a thousand or more hard dicks into her pleasure zone, and wrenched out an infinite amount of orgasms from each of them; the cunt that had brought her share of men to their knees, crippling them of their free will.

Oh yes. Like in her book, Good Pussy, she was good pussy. And she knew it. And good pussy, like that of a good tongue—or good dick—should never go to waste.

Ever.

Nairobia pressed a button on what appeared to be a remote control. Moments later, Josiah appeared walking into the room in his naked glory, his dick swinging with purpose. He was exquisite. Heat bubbled in her veins just looking at him.

So young.

So virile.

So hard.

So willing.

So, so full of thick, tasty cum.

She licked her lips. And he grinned sexily at her, his gaze honed in on her rich with promise. And understanding. She felt the ache inside her sizzle and spread. The sight of him, the thought of his mouth and tongue on her pussy, obsessed her to no end.

“Come, my darling,” she cooed, spreading her legs wider. “Lick me to orgasm.”

“Your pleasure is my pleasure,” he rasped, moving quickly toward her.

Nairobia smiled.

She’d trained him well. Taught him how to pleasure her with abandon. He’d been just an inexperienced boy trying to be a man when she’d met him—twenty, to be exact. But he’d been eager to have her, when he’d approached her with his boyish charm, good looks, and pussy-melting body.

Damn him for being so relentless. He’d pursued her during her entire stay on the beautiful island of St. Lucia. Though he was Dominican and Haitian, his family owned a home in Castries—the island’s capital, where he’d been staying for the summer while working at Jade Mountain, an exclusive resort, where she’d been vacationing—alone.

A week into her stay, she’d given into his advances, a mixture of curiosity and wanton need making the decision to fuck him that more easy. Seeing him naked had been like staring into a kaleidoscope bursting with vibrant colors. He was breathtaking. And his thick-veined cock was mouthwatering. But he’d come disappointingly fast and hard the first few times she’d mounted him and rode him down into the resort’s plush mattress. So what if he’d been able to become erect again quickly? Quickies were not wanted, desired, or celebrated in Nairobia’s world.

It made her pussy angry.

Her cunt needed long, deep stroke sessions. It needed staying power. It had a mind of its own, and it became enraged when it wasn’t fucked with the utmost care. It was insatiable. And not many could rise to the occasion of keeping it—or her—satisfied. So she’d tossed him out of her suite numerous times in the wee hours of the night. And, yet, he’d return the following evening, scratching at her door like some sex-starved puppy, eager to learn, eager to please, willing to be fired from his job. And she’d sneak him in and let him try all over again.

It had been his limitless enthusiasm that had won Nairobia over. Now, look at him. Four years later, he’d matured, evolved, into a sexual beast, her very own human sex toy.

He lowered himself to his knees. Breathed her cunt in. Licked his lips. Then leaned into her glorious slit and tasted it. She moaned low in the back of her throat as he lapped at it with his tongue. Then he swept his tongue into her cunt. And the low sound he made with his greedy wet licks gave Nairobia the most delicious sensations. Slick sounds mingled with her breaths while he rubbed circles over her greedy clitoris with the pad of his thumb. Nairobia’s hips slowly rocked up to his touch, to his mouth. He ran the tip of his tongue over her clit, then dipped it inside, before sliding it over her throbbing pussy lips.