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How could he? That bastard of a boyfriend of mine?
Yes, despite living together we both had our freedom. He’d never been unfaithful to me before. Not that I knew of. Neither had I with him. Not with another man, anyway. A woman was different, of course.
My boyfriend had no idea I was bisexual. That was, and is, a side I keep to myself. I love men. Love cock. But I love women, too.
I’m not one of those who chooses one over the other. Both are wonderful in their own way. There are times when I yearn for cock. And there are times when I yearn for pussy. Okay, I confess – given a choice it’s the woman who wins every time. But that’s getting away from my story.
That bastard of a boyfriend of mine. I threw him out, of course. After all, it’s my flat. He could fuck off and find himself someone else. If she was as hot as me, as loyal as me, and could suck his cock as good as I did – well, good luck to him.
Then there was revenge. Not on him. Throwing him out was enough. No, I wanted revenge on the bitch he’d cheated with. I knew her well enough. We were friends, though not good friends. In many ways, she reminded me of me. As sexy as hell. And I knew she preferred women as well as men. The beauty was – her husband didn’t know me at all. Perfect. Revenge, part one.
I met him in a bar. By accident, of course. We just bumped into each other one Friday night. He spilt my drink. Accidentally, of course. Bought me another. After that, he went back to his mates. But he kept looking over. And I kept looking back. I had him hooked.
Later, I asked if he’d walk me to my car. It would only take a moment, I said. How prophetic those words were. I fucked him in the car park. He couldn’t resist. What man would? They’re all the same when you get down to it. He came quickly.
‘When I said it wouldn’t take a moment, I didn’t expect you to cum that quickly,’ I told him. It was a nice exclamation mark to end the moment.
My car wasn’t in the car park, of course. Not that one. I walked away from him leaving him confused, puzzled, and spent.
Now for revenge, part two. The next night. A group of us were out together. Girls night out. Including Carly. She flirted throughout the night, of course. Two timing bitch. I couldn’t drink, of course. I was on antibiotics for a chest infection.
At least, what’s what I told her. It meant I could give some of the girls a lift home. Including Carly. And – of course – I made sure she was the last one in the car.
She was well intoxicated, of course. Nothing new there. Naturally, she invited me in. And naturally, she flirted. I don’t think she expected me to come on as strong. It took her by surprise. But she responded just as strongly. As expected.
We were naked when her husband arrived home. She’d told me he’d be back around midnight, but it was a good half an hour later before he made his appearance. That should have Amsterdam Shemale been a frustration for me. My plan was simply to let him find Carly and I making out, then leave.
Instead, his wife and I enjoyed each other’s body for much longer than I expected. That wasn’t the frustration I expected. This was my revenge on her. And her husband. What I hadn’t expected was that she’d be such a hot bitch and how much I’d enjoy myself.
Which brings me to now.
Carly had phoned me twice since then, asking to meet. To talk. She had no idea I’d set it up for her husband to find us. Nor did she have any idea I’d fucked him the night before. And if I’d thought my plan would fuck up her marriage, I was wrong. Okay, I’m a vindictive bitch. But she’d screwed my boyfriend – and my relationship with him.
Meet for a drink, she’d said. To talk about things. At first, I dismissed it out of hand. I’d done what I’d done. Had my revenge, such as it was. Now, I was looking for a fresh start.
The problem was that, after I’d thought about it, I began to feel horny. For her. I remembered the way her body looked. The uninhibited way she’d pleasured me. The way her voice warbled when she came. Suddenly, I realised that I was turned on by the thought of seeing the bitch again. In short, I wanted her.
When she phoned me a second time, I made a pretence of saying no again. Then – reluctantly, naturally – gave in. Yes, I’d meet her for a drink. Maybe a quick one.
Her voice seemed to drip with lust when she heard me agree. I’ll tell you what, she’d said. I’ll pick you up at yours. After all, you gave me a lift last time. Shall we say eight o’clock?
Jeans and tee-shirt, I told myself. Casual. No bra.
At half seven, I was just out of the shower. That’s when my bell rang. It couldn’t be her. Not half an hour early. We girls didn’t do that. Not unless… Was she hoping to catch me before I’d dressed? Make sure I invited her inside?
God, but she looked hot. Her wavy red hair framed a face that had that aroused, mischievous, wicked smile I’d seen before.
Sorry to be so early, she told me. Is it convenient?
That red dress of hers was the business. It clung to her curves. And gave me a perfect eyeful of her cleavage, and the white straps of the black bra that was straining to contain it. I love breasts. I can cum from having mine pleasured. I wondered whether she could?
She gave me a hug. Unnecessary, I thought. And inappropriate in the circumstances. But it left me with the aroma of her perfume in my nostrils and the delicious sensation of her tits against my body. Not to mention the way my nips were pushing through my thin, white robe.
I offered her a drink while I finished getting ready. White wine. Chardonnay. I thought she’d stay in my small living room while I went to get the drink, but she followed me into the kitchen. She made small talk. But it was the Rotterdam Shemale way she stood so close to me that affected me the most. No matter where I moved to, she was there too, that hot body of hers just brushing against mine.
I poured a second glass for myself and led her back to the living area. I’ll just finish getting ready, I told her.
She smiled. What do you think of my dress, she asked, with a sexy little pirouette. I wore it just for you.
Fucking hot, I thought, a lump forming in my throat. Nice, I said.
And my underwear, she added, putting her drink on my small glass table beside the sofa. I wore that for you, too. Wanna see?
Before I could answer, the Whooo…Are…You? dress was on the floor and she stood in her lejaby underwear. He breasts thrust against the black Follement Sage half cup bra. Her ass looked perfect in the matching boy shorts. And the lacy, nude stockings gave her that sizzling, sexy look.
I knew then we wouldn’t be leaving my flat.
I keep thinking of your mouth on my tits, Rachal, she said as her hands unhooked the bra. The wonderfully full breasts spilled free, bouncing slightly before settling on her tanned skin. Sit down.
I did, flopping back on the sofa. With three strides, she was in front of me, her hand taking my wine glass and placing it beside hers on the table. One leg swung across me, her right knee resting on the sofa cushions. Her left knee dug into the other side.
Her eyes were gleaming. Her nipples were hard. She leant forward, taking her tits to within a couple of inches of my face. Want them, she asked, making me come to her.
My hands wrapped around her lower back, pulling her forward. I felt wetness trickle from me at the first touch of my mouth on her tits. I pleasured her right breast first, sucking as much inside and allowing it to slowly escape with a soft pop. Then the left.
I must have pleasured her that way for a few minutes. Her growls made me wetter.
Then it was her nipples I wanted. Sucking, biting, flicking, nibbling, pulling, licking. My saliva drooled all over them. By now her hands were in my dark hair. They dug in deep, grabbing a handful each and tightening it around her fingers. It was easier for her to manoeuvre my head that way. Easier to control me.
And that’s what she did. Control me. As if she was worried I might pull away. She shouldn’t have had such fears. I was getting off simply by sucking her tits. I’d originally wondered if I could make her cum by pleasuring them. Now I was wondering if I’d cum from doing so.
Something was bubbling inside my fanny.
At first, her voice was soft, encouraging. That’s it baby… Nice, like that… Oh, do that again… Geez, suck harder…
Then her voice became as rough as her hands. The fingers in my hair hurt as she dragged my head from tit to tit. Unmercilessly. Painfully. Deliciously. That’s it… Be my bitch… Netherlands Shemale Suck those tits…
Her back arched as she pressed them into my mouth. Her body began to undulate, humping against my stomach. We must have gone on for half an hour, at least. She was in heaven. So was I.
Then her hands were dragging my head back. Her lips crushed mine. Her tongue jammed between my lips. We mouth-fucked for some time, her hands ripping my robe open as she played with my tits. My hands kneaded, mashed and caressed hers.
Then she was on the move again, tearing her thong from her tanned body. Half kneeling, half standing, in just those sexy stockings, she looked as wanton a sight as I’d ever seen.
Wanna suck my pussy, she snarled. It was a snarl of arousal. Of lust. Then her cunt was jamming itself against my head, forcing it back against the thick cushions.
To begin with, she let me do the work. My tongue ran figure eights along her slit. Sucked in her clit. Bathed it in saliva. Every so often, I hardened my tongue and slipped it inside her, tongue-fucking her before returning to the figure eight again.
Her scream as she came was incredible. Like a banshee. My hands went to her ass to steady her. My mouth kept sucking, devouring as much of the bitter tang as I could. I adored it, the feeling of the honeyed nectar gliding down my throat.
So good… so fucking good…
She was right. It briefly occurred to me that I’d never before been as submissive as this. Yes, I’d been a sub. I could also dominate, too. But here, I was willingly servicing the woman who’d fucked my boyfriend. Ended our relationship. And I was loving it.
For a second, she was staring down, into my eyes, as her fingers yanked my head back. Her eyes were wild. Hot. Wanting more.
With a deliciously exaggerated slowness, she pulled her hips backwards and then pulled them forward to brush them over my mouth again. She did it a second time. Then a third. My tongue poked out, attempting to lick at her. Her movements were too quick.
Her hips moved fast. Faster. Then I knew. This time I wasn’t going to lick her pussy. She was going to fuck my face.
I was pinned back, helpless, against the back of the sofa. Her hips were undulating. Her fanny pushing into me. Not back and forward, but in a circular rotation, smothering my forehead, nose, lips and chin with her free flowing juices. At times I could hardly breath. I could hardly hear. But I was loving it.
Like that baby?… like me fucking your face?… like my wet cunt?…
Her words took me to orgasm, without any need to touch myself. Her fingers felt like they were close to pulling chunks of my hair out. Her pussy ground itself into my face. Then she was cumming, too. Screaming louder. What the fuck would the neighbours think?
After her third orgasm, she backed off. How long had I pleasured her? A couple of hours at least! She pulled me into a kiss. My cum soaked mouth mixing with hers. Our whole bodies heaving.
You’re one hot fucking woman, Rach, she told me, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. You’re turn now. Where’s the bedroom?
The night was only just beginning…
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