The New Us
Amy was fond of very short skirts. When she sat down it was often possible to get a glimpse of her knickers, and lots her long thighs. The view I always liked, when I could get it, was of the cotton bulge of her vulva, when her legs parted accidentally as she arose, or sat. I was in love with the mons. And why not, she had long amazing legs which only ever made me think of her cunt.
It was early days in our relationship and we were in the jump-into-bed-and-fuck-whenever-we-could phase. Or on the couch. Or on the kitchen table. Or against the wall. I couldn't take my eyes off her when she was naked, or walking around the apartment wearing just her knickers, or bending over. She knew it. She would smile and pose, and tease. Her pubic hair was pale, the glimpse of her pink labia was intoxicating, her wetness was a drug I couldn't get enough of and she closed her eyes and sighed when my face was buried in her cunt. I fucked her with my face, my nostrils and mouth filled with the taste of her juice, my eyes and eyebrows hard up against her buttocks when I knelt over her, facing her feet, my tongue lapping at her clitoris, while she stroked my leaking cock as it dangled in her face.
Yet there was something missing. She was holding something back. I didn't know what it was. She loved to have me face-fuck her, and while she was an excellent tease with her hands, had never so much as put her mouth near to my cock.
I had never much been into fellatio. It wasn't as if I needed my cock sucked to enjoy sex. I liked it, but the pleasure I got was always mitigated by the thought that my partner wasn't getting any attention while my cock was being sucked. I didn't want to come in a partner's mouth because I immediately felt embarrassed that I had lost control, and by the usual wiping and grimacing that went on afterwards. Fellatio was something my other girlfriends had done out of a desire for reciprocation of the attention paid by me to their cunts. But they had all done it. They had all happily sucked on my cock until, close to orgasm, I pushed them off to finally unload my semen onto their pubic hair, their stomachs, their breasts or into the warm cleft of their buttocks into their cunts. Never onto their faces. But not Amy. She was skilled with her hands and her cunt fit me like a glove but, because she wouldn't go there in sucking me I became obsessed with wanting her to.
I tried talking to her about it, asking if she had sucked anyone else's cock. It got me nowhere. She didn't say she had or hadn't, that she did or didn't like it, or admit that it was a part of the usual sexual practice of most couples. Instead she got coy. She put her hand on my cock and stroked it to hardness, whispering into my year.
"You like this, don't you? What's wrong with this? You like cumming in my cunt. You like cumming on me. Let me make you come with my hand. Fuck my hand! Cum in my armpit."
That was a real turn-on. I love cumming in her smooth armpit and onto her breasts. Talk like that always made me explode. Pumping semen into her hand. But then I felt embarrassed. What was in it for her, as she looked at the oozing cream dripping from her fingers, or puddling under her arm, with that enigmatic smile that frustrated me so much?
She had told me that her last boyfriend had a huge cock. That didn't help. She said that having sex sometimes hurt and didn't go into details. I had never worried about the size of my cock before but after she said that, like most males, I wondered if I measured up. It's natural to think a bigger cock is going to be better than a smaller cock, despite knowing that it isn't. There's more to sex than the size of a man's cock - so she told me -- and according to the literature! Still, I couldn't but worry, and put it together with her reluctance to even kiss my cock, despite the energy I put into her tonguing her cunt.
She wasn't too keen, either, on kissing me when my mouth was full of the taste of her.
Her last boyfriend, Tom, the one with the reputedly big cock, was a photographer. Occasionally when we had sex she would call out his name as she orgasmed. She never noticed and I didn't say anything. But the thought of her fucking him turned me on.
"He took photos of me," she once said.
She wouldn't say whether clothed, unclothed, tastefully or lewdly. Of course I imagined lewd. I had lewd in my mind. I imagined her naked and doing whatever it was that he wanted of her. I imagined her sucking his cock while he took photos.
One day I was home alone and, feeling intimidated by her past without knowing why, I searched his name on a photo web site.
To my surprise I found a profile, almost immediately, that I was sure was him. I recognised some local landscapes and streets on his cover page. I browsed through them. Yes, and there was a photo of Amy sitting on the bonnet of his car. More of a snapshot than something arty. And not at all erotic. There were photos of other women, too, a couple of whom I knew. Women who moved in intersecting circles. Very hot and attractive women. Also snapshots from trips or social occasions. Nothing raunchy. If he had any rude photos they were hidden and only available to approved contacts.
I clicked through his list of photo contacts, through the list of groups to which he subscribed. Unlike me he didn't hide anything. While most of his groups were bona-fide photo groups, there were also some that probably catered to his sexual proclivities. Milf groups, Shared Girlfriends, Hot Naked Girlfriend groups. I clicked the button requesting him to make me a contact. I had an anonymous account and I didn't expect any reply. I had nothing to offer him and most of these relationships were transactional. You show me your rude photos and I'll show you mine.
Later that day, scrolling through my feed, I found that he had accepted my contact request. I clicked onto the photo roll that this unlocked.
It was shocked and amazed. It was huge. The vanilla photos I had seen yesterday were buried amongst hundreds of erotic and pornographic photos. And short videos. His girlfriends. He had put a black mask over their faces, but I recognised them.
And there was Amy amongst them. I knew that was what I was going to find. I just knew it. And knowing what I was going to find had made my cock fully aroused.
I knew Tom a little through friends of friends. He had always seemed super confident, always surrounded by beautiful people, both men and women, drinking and flirting and laughing in a group. Since Amy and I had gotten together we had exchanged glances in a different way. When we came across him in the street it felt like Amy didn't want to fully acknowledge her new relationship with me to him. She kept it cool, didn't introduce me, took a half step away, seemed to act a bit coyly, was quiet after he went on his way, as if she was thinking about something else.
Inspired, or excited by what I had seen I had to do something. I had to tell her.
She came home full of energy about her day. As she put her bag on the counter I imagined her bent over it, as I had seen her bend over in some photos, lifting her short skirt and admiring her curved bottom and the knickers that might have ridden into her crack. I imagined holding her down over the counter, my hand in the small of her back while she made only a token resistance.
"What's up?" she asked, unable to read the look on my face.
"Nothing." I pulled myself together. "Do you want a drink?"
I opened a bottle of white wine and poured her a glass.
She nestled into my arms as she took it from me.
"Feel like an hors d'ouvre?" she asked rubbing against me.
"You're a bit frisky," I said.
"It's been a long day. I need to unwind."
I slipped my hand between the buttons of her dress and massaged her breasts over her light bra.
"Do you want to do something different?" I asked.
"Like what?" She was surprised.
"Tying up! How about I tie you up and fuck you? We've never done that."
Was I going too fast? She had been tied in some photos. On the bed, across a table, across a coffee table, on a couch. And that was only the half of it. Only the half of what I had in mind, of what I had seen in those photos and I too wanted to do.
She seemed to consider, but only for a moment.
"Tie me up!" she commanded. She made a move towards the bedroom.
"Stay here!" This time it was me commanding. "Take off your panties and sit on the table!"
She looked at me. Her surprise was mingled with excitement. She pulled down her panties and bent over to step out of them then sat up on the table, pulling up her skirt and parting her legs a little to reveal her hairy mons.
"I could look at you like that for hours," I said. "But I have some ropes to find."
There was a box of ropes and ties in the spare room that I used for camping.
I found four suitable pieces. Back at the table I tied one to each of her wrists and ankles. She watched, warily obedient, still sitting on the table.
"Did you know there are photos of you online?" I asked.
Her eyes widened.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Your face is blurred out, but I know it's you. Stand up and turn around," I said.
When she was facing the table I pushed her forward so her head was on the table.
"That looks like the way I would like to fuck you," I said, taking the ropes attached to her wrist and taking them over the far edge to tie them to the table-legs. She was bent over the table, supported by her hands, compliant, her eyes closed. I took the ankle ropes and tied them to the other end, spreading her legs apart.
"I'm going to fuck you every way I've seen you fucked online." I said. "Feeling vulnerable?"
"Yes," she said. Her voice was breathy. She was enjoying this new activity. I ran my hands up the back of her legs and stroked her labia. Her hips moved in encouragement, but I didn't finger her, I just used my fingers to open her lips like a pink butterfly. She moaned quietly.
I picked her knickers up from the floor.
"Are you a slut?" I asked.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Open your mouth," I said.
"Why, what are you..." she couldn't say anything else because I jammed her knickers into her mouth. I flicker of concern flashed in her eyes, but she didn't try and escape the gag.
"Now a blindfold," I said. I went off to the bedroom and came back with a scarf.
Her eyes were wide open and staring at me, her head lying sideways on the table, as if she didn't recognise me -- this new assertive me. She wasn't struggling. She wanted this.
"I know you've sucked cocks," I said as I covered her eyes. "More than sucked cocks. I know you've sucked several cocks in the one session. I've seen the photos. I've seen Tom's photos. I've seen your face covered in cum. One day you're going to suck my cock too. But not today. Today I'm going to come on your face"
She tensed as I spoke. She had never told me she had sucked cocks. She wanted me to think it was something outside of her experience and that I should accept it. And perhaps I should. But I had seen the photos and now she knew it. I had seen her lips wrapped around not just Tom, her old boyfriend's cock, but several other cocks. He had blurred out her face but anyone who knew her would see through the pixilation and see that it was her throat that those cocks -- at least three of them in addition to Tom's -- were stuffed into. I had never done that -- she had never let me do that - but it was something I thought about -- a lot. And, after seeing those photos I was going to think about it a lot more, and I was going to do it.
I had a thought and retrieved an empty white wine bottle from the sideboard. I washed it under the tap. It was a Riesling bottle, with a long tapered neck.
"I've never fucked you with a bottle," I said. "Being fucked with a bottle is something a slut does."
I slowly inserted the bottle-neck into her cunt. She tried to tense, to stop me, but it was useless. Her legs were apart and she was wet. It slid straight into her. After a moment she gave into the sensation as I fucked her gently with the bottle's neck.
"I could stick it in your arse," I said, brushing her tight brown hole with my thumb. She tensed again, clenching her buttocks together. "But I'm not going to -- this time. I know you've been fucked in the arse. I've seen pictures of that too. One day we might give it a try. For the moment there are more wonderful places to unload my cum."
She relaxed again and began grunting as I fucked her more insistently with the bottle, lightly brushing a thumb over her arsehole. She was trying to open herself wider. She wanted more.
Suddenly, I couldn't wait any longer. Dropping my trousers I abandoned the bottle and pushed my cock into her. The sensation of being inside her cunt, the warmth of the back of her legs against the front of mine, my hand in the small of her back, to let her know I was in charge - I could happily have cum right then but I pulled out as she began bucking in orgasm herself. Instead I moved around the table and jerked off onto the side of her face with one hand, while the other went to her cunt. I fucked her with my fingers while I wanked over her head. My fingers were wet. I slipped one into her anus, my other fingers were in her cunt. She went into a spasm. I went into a spasm. My cock exploded. Blobs of semen went into her hair and dripped into her ear and ran down her cheek to the panties in her mouth. A spurt had landed on the blindfold and was dripping down her nose.
"Now that I know more about you I'm going to make you my slut more often." I took my finger out of her arsehole.
She was breathing deeply through her nose, slowly returning to a normal state. I pulled the knickers from her mouth and undid the ties from her hands and then her ankles. She stayed leaning over the table, getting herself together and took the scarf from her eyes herself, using it to wipe my cum from her face.
"Wow," she said. "That was different."
"It's the new us," I said.
In the heat of the moment, Amy's reluctance to explore oral sex became apparent. Despite her skillful hand job and affectionate face-fucking, she had never once moved her mouth towards his cock.
In an attempt to uncover the reason behind her hesitation, he boldly asked if she had ever sucked anyone else's cock before. She remained coy, neither confirming nor denying the question, leaving him even more curious about her past experiences.