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Joyce (mf, breasts, intercourse, orgasms)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
In article [email protected], [email protected] (Jane10064) writes:
continued from part 1 . . .
Joyce let her bra drop completely off as she made her way to the door of
the baby room. She locked the door. Then she went back to the chair and
sat down. "Come'ere," she said.
Curt knelt before Joyce and kissed her lips. His tongue slid forward
through the tight passage and into her mouth. It met her tongue, and the
two velvetly intertwined.
But before he knew what was happening, Joyce was moving his head firmly
down, down to her chest. Her hands pressured his shoulders until his lips
were in front of her big, soft orb. It seemed even bigger now that he was
right in front of it.
"Come on," she was saying. "Try my milk."
Then he was sucking at her nipple. He noticed several things at once: how
puffy her large areola was, how its soft moistness helped him to latch on,
how full the nipple itself felt in his mouth, and then, in a quick stream,
how warm and even sweet Joyce's milk tasted. Curt felt close to his
girlfriend as he nursed from her thick nipple, and as he sucked more
intently, he felt her hand begin to caress his hair. His stomach began to
feel warm and full.
When she was done breastfeeding Curt, Joyce sat up and reached up her
dress with both hands. She slid her panties off smoothly, and after she
let them drop to the floor, she spread her legs. Her dress slid up to her
thighs.
Curt didn't have to be told what to do. As he opened her, leaned down, and
let his tongue slide through the trough of her vulva, Joyce drew in a slow
breath and thought of the other time this had happened to her. She was
thirteen, the guy was sixteen. That was as far as she had let him go. She
didn't exactly understand the purpose of it, until she felt a warm
tingling burning white hot pleasure there between her legs. There was just
one of them, and she didn't know for a long time that this was orgasm. But
Joyce was 18 now, and she knew a lot more than she had five years before.
Joyce felt some of her education pay off right about then-she found
herself escalating into a soaring pleasure oblivion as the blur of Curt's
slithering tongue pushed her over the edge. She had no idea how long she
felt the ecstasy, only that it seemed to melt through minutes. However
long, she came down only to find herself on the verge of coming again. She
could see Curt burying his lips between her labia, sucking her clitoris
into his mouth and refusing to let it go. She began a quiet yelp-"No, it's
too . . ."-that was stifled as she rocketed away into a second orgasm.
Curt had noticed that her hands had found her bare breasts. A finger
delicately orbited each nipple until drops of her milk trickled and
spilled around her areolae. Curt had had enough. He dropped his hands to
his pants, unzipping with fury. About the time Joyce's third or fourth
orgasm (she'd lost count) ended, he presented his penis at the furry gates
of her vagina.
"Wait," he heard her say. She pushed the chair back and slid to the floor.
Even Curt, not the hallmark of sexual experience, could tell how hungry
Joyce was for that final act, coupling. She spread her legs so far back
and apart that she could grasp each ankle with ease. Her cunt was opened
wide, a stretched set of moist pink lips surrounded by a trail of light
brown hair. But though Curt could see the entrance to Joyce's vagina
easily, he noticed that the tunnel hadn't opened much at all.
"Enter my gates with thanksgiving," Joyce joked nervously, making a pun of
a hymn the congregation had sung during the service.
Curt didn't let it spoil the mood. "I love you," he said, dropping the
head of his dick into Joyce's opening.
Both gasped at once. Curt felt how warm-no, hot-she felt inside, how soft,
how wet. Joyce was recalling the previous, first cock she had let inside
her. She knew Curt was barely inside her, but already she could tell that
he was bigger than that other guy was.
He didn't exactly know what he was doing, but pumping in and out of
Joyce's cunt felt good, and he found himself doing it at a fairly fast
rate. Joyce, it was obvious to him, was enjoying it, too: her hands were
back at her breasts, milking the nipples with tight squeezes, while her
mouth was open. He wondered if she would come.
Joyce was coming. About five strokes into intercourse, the sweep of orgasm
suddenly enveloped her, and it refused to let her down. It melted into
different stages: she tingled all over, then her crotch burned almost
painfully, then she was aware of the relentless ramming of Curt's dick in
her pussy. Then her breasts-oh, her breasts. God. Each light touch of a
finger to a puffy areola made her sting with a delicious pleasure, a tiny
orgasm in itself, on top of the one that now seemed continuous.
When it slipped away, she opened her eyes to watch Curt leaning over her,
thrusting at the brown furry patch between her legs unrelentlessly. God,
what a turn-on. She found herself coming again, but relatively briefly.
When those 30 seconds were through, she opened her eyes again, and this
time the determination on his face soon sent her back into ecastasy. And
the cycle continued.
After twenty minutes of this, Joyce knew that it had to stop soon. If
she'd counted right-which she doubted-she'd had at least, say, sixteen
orgasms. And though they seemed to become more intense each time,
sometimes much more intense, she felt as if she could barely take anymore.
"Oh, Curt, I love the feel of your dick," she confessed.
Curt, meanwhile, was at the end of his rope when she said that. He
couldn't hold out any longer, though he'd heard so many times that it was
his duty to fuck a girl until she came at least once.
"Joyce," he said, gasping slightly at a breath, "uh, have you come yet?"
Joyce giggled softly. "Yeah," she whispered. "I have."
She cupped a breast with her hand. "Here," she offered, "it'll help."
Curt leaned down to her tit and, taking a good portion of it in his mouth,
drew streams of milk from her. Joyce closed her eyes, involuntarily swept
away. The whole idea was such a turn-on to Curt that he began to feel a
really strong pressure in his groin.
"God, oh, God," he said, slowing his thrusts to long, powerful strokes. It
was over in a few seconds, and Joyce could feel a new wetness deep within
as come gushed from his dick.
They spent a long time that way, with Curt's head resting on Joyce's
chest, his mouth gently sucking at her full round breast, her hand
brushing against the back of his head. She felt tender and fulfilled as
she passed her milk to him. He felt warm inside; he felt as though he
would never take enough of it.
And from the other side of the two-way mirror, April smiled.
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