Unwanted attention - Chapter 18 - Sex Stories

Unwanted attention - Chapter 18

... bucking in my face. I let my middle finger slide between her now red folds and made contact with her erect clit. She just jumped a bit, then paused for a moment before pushing her entire back side in my face again, encouraging me to continue. I did. I rubbed her pulsating clitoris and penetrated her convulsing butt hole with my tongue until she finally allowed herself to have another orgasm. It was long and seemed like she had been holding it back forever. It was pleasure and release at the same time. But why was she holding it back? If she had wanted more “play time” she could just make me give it to her, I was already submitting myself to this sick lesbian perversion that was forced upon me. It must be that Sheila was probably not quite kosher with doing this with a girl, or with anyone for that matter. It seemed that this fantasy of hers had been contemplated and replayed in her mind way too many times, with different outcomes no doubt. Who knows what scenario she had envisioned before finally acting on her disturbed impulse… But I had no time to think about it, not now. I felt her get up and finally had the nerve to remove my tongue from her ass and take a deep breath of fresh air. For the past twenty minutes all I was breathing in was pussy smell combined with ass taste. A delicious combination for a closet lesbian like Sheila, but a disgusting thing for a little girl like myself. As she got up, she immediately reached for her clothes which were scattered on the ...

... floor, grabbed them and started hastily getting dressed, avoiding any eye contact with me in the process. It was almost like she was ashamed of what had happened, regretting what she had done. I just stood there on the sofa, naked, with my legs folded under my butt, looking at her puzzled. She got dressed and left the room. Then I could hear my uncle and her talk about something in the kitchen. It sounded like she was now worried that this might get out, that Jeff, by some miracle, would find some last shred of manhood and step up. I didn’t really care either way. I felt bad for him because he was such a nice person, and because she was doing this to him, but I felt even worse for myself for having endured this indignity. I did blame him, even if I wouldn’t admit it to myself, for just standing there and letting her do this to me. Not only that but also for participating, unwillingly, in her unusual “requests”. Basically I felt like she had done what she wanted to both of us and we didn’t stop it. “We”, it downed on me… It was my fault as much as his. So then how could I be upset with him?.... He probably hates himself for what he let happen as much as I do. And for someone who had been through this kind of situation before I knew better than to blame the victim. I decided: No. I would not be part of a stereotype. So I got up, gartered all my clothes and got dressed. Then went to the kitchen where my uncle was at the table with his face buried in his hands. I couldn’t see her ...