Donna and Box - Sex Stories

Donna and Box

... tapped her finger right on the jewel and whipped her hand away and placed it on my shoulder. We strolled around the gallery and admired the work. ‘Donna!’ A tall, elderly man in a rumpled tweed suit approached. ‘What ho, Pinky. College, meet Pinky Bennet. He’s one of Sheila’s biggest fans. Pinky, say hello to my bird.’ Graciously, Pinky took my hand and kissed it. Old world charm. ‘Delighted to meet you, College. Donna has told me a lot about you.’ I have almost forgotten my real name. ‘She says you are an inspiration.’ ‘She is mine.’ Pinky took my arm and led me to a picture. ‘Your Donna is trying to persuade me to buy this.’ ‘This’ was a seascape on a grand scale. Waves crashed on beach and at the foot of cliffs. The sun was glimpsed through a break in lowering clouds. I stole a look over my shoulder and saw Donna watching me, her eyes smiling. ‘What do you think?’ 'Two things. The first is I like it but I reckon it would require a large room. It’s big and so is the subject. Second, I am no judge but Donna is. If she thinks it’s right for you then I’d go with her judgement.’ ‘Then, my dear, I shall.’ He led me back to Donna. ‘Put a little spot next to the seascape, please my dear. Your lady has convinced me to trust your judgement. I must go and negotiate with the gallery owner.’ ‘He fancies you,’ said Donna. Mind you, that doesn’t mean you’ve joined an exclusive club. Basically, if it's got tits and a recent heartbeat he fancies it.’ ‘You do wonders for my ego.’ ...

... Julian the gallery owner caught us as we were leaving. ‘Wont you stay for dinner? I’m taking Sheila and few others to the Ivy.’ ‘Sorry Jules,’ said Donna, ‘We’d love to but I have to get College home to bed. She’s got a bit of a fever coming on.’ As we walked back through the balmy evening I asked, ‘What did you mean about a fever.’ ‘Just you wait and see,’ she replied with a mischievous grin. ‘I’ve a little something designed to raise your temperature.’ Now, I have often stated truthfully that Donna is androgynous. It is the sort of androgyny that emphasizes her femininity. The sight that emerged from our bathroom, back at the hotel, was far from androgynous. Her slender, coltish body was clad in a long, sheer black silk nightdress. She was all woman. I’d wondered why she had told me to get undressed and showered alone while she watched the TV. I’d questioned why she wanted me in bed in my own dark blue nightdress. ‘Mind your own,’ was all she had said. ‘I thought I might show you that I can occasionally tart down to your level. Not exactly my comfort zone, as you know but a girl has to create the odd surprise, no?’ I don’t know if you have ever lain on your back with your lover kneeling astride your face, a sheer silk nightdress covering you like a widow’s veil as your tongue slithers between sweet lips. If not, try it. It worked for me. As my tongue slipped between her lips and just before it pressed into her tunnel of love, Donna said, ‘You are about to enter Box.’