Today’s guest blog, by Oliveira, is a super-hot real-life sex story that contains something I don’t write much about here: cunnilingus. And I love it when guest bloggers write the stories that I can’t quite get my own words around. If you enjoy cunt-eating erotica and lazy Sunday afternoon sex, you’ll definitely have fun with this one…
Making out with her cunt
We had returned from a long family barbecue. Think Sunday night: that unwillingness to just even be, your body glued itself to the nearest surface as it waits for the inevitability of Monday. I don’t know about you but I hate Sunday nights.
L threw herself on our sofa bed and picked back up ‘4 3 2 1‘ by Paul Auster, which she’s been reading on and off since her work doesn’t give her much free time. On a side note: we don’t usually sleep on a sofa bed, we just broke our real bed like a week ago. Don’t worry, though, we continued fucking on the chair.
A beautiful, tall woman in a skin tight, skin coloured dress, lying on my sofa bed, reading a book. I’d been aching for a fuck since morning and this image didn’t help at all. While there was finally a time window in which I could try my luck, though, she had just established herself in a whole other kind of night. I couldn’t just throw the book away and start. She was no Siri or Alexa either, to enthusiastically comply any time I asked for it.
“But there’s an alternative,” I thought as I saw the wide space between her soft, lightly tanned, open legs. Her dress had lifted a bit, and her black panties were mine to see, as well as her pussy lips peeking from the side. I’m so lucky for her taste in underwear.
So I gave it a shot. Kiss by kiss, slowly I wandered around her thighs, every now and then, looking up, checking. When she doesn’t feel like it, she usually pushes me away, but for the moment L remained unmoved, her face covered by the enormous, thousand pages long book.
Every now and then, as well, I got near her cunt and wafted. Then I exhaled and wafted again, drunk on the smell of my favorite food in the world.
As I arrived, my mouth just millimetres away from dinner, my breath bouncing back at me, I was rock hard but still uncertain.
“Is it OK?” I asked.
“Mm-hm,” she replied in that tiny voice she makes whenever she agrees to any kind of shit her perverted boyfriend is up to. I didn’t go full throttle, though, but continued the same trail of little kisses.
Lightly caressing her inner thighs, I greet her mound while she turns to another page. As I go down, my kisses take longer, my lips spread more and my own spit intertwines with lace, moisture and heat and as so much regarding sex, I can’t translate to words without sounding awfully spiritual, but the thing is I was just fucking worshipping her. By this time I had cut the middleman off and moved her panties to the side, full on making out with her cunt, pressing my tongue against her lips as my own upper lip grazed over her clit. Casually, she opened more.
I look up.
In true godlike fashion, she’s oblivious of me, turning to the next page. Her left hand hidden behind the book. What was she doing? I can’t be sure on what turned me on more: whether she was feeling her tits or just scratching her face as if she didn’t care about the worthless cunteater below her waist. My tongue digs deeper as she pushes harder against me and I vocally agree again and again: “Mm-hmm”.
She suddenly puts her book down, because goddesses also cum. Pushing her whole body against me, she mmmmms back as we engage in a final moaning match, from which she rises victorious as her orgasming scream coincides with my own silence as I diligently suck away her juices.
After breathing back to calm, she pushes me away, picks the book back up and continues where she left off…
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