Don't Tell Me What To Do - Sex Stories

Don't Tell Me What To Do

... though, she had obviously decided to do the same to me. She was on her knees with my cock in her mouth, clearly loving what she was doing. She wasn't showing off, but nor was she bashful about it. My big, hard member was on display for her benefit and she loved it.

Whether this was part of her revenge on her husband or not I didn't know, but I preferred to think she just hadn't recently had the pleasure of permitting herself to be submissive in this way, with nothing at stake in relationship terms. She could perform this splendidly selfless act and enjoy its liberating naughtiness. I could tell she was savouring the feel and taste of a penis. She was away with the fairies, already lost in the erotic mindscape of happy sex. She licked me up the length of my cock, ran her tongue around the contours of my knob, then back down and gently kissed my scrotum before sucking it and smelling that savoury aroma. I had deliberately had a shower early, to allow my manly smells to return, clean but natural.

Helen played with my pubic hair and then, turning me around, kissed my buttocks and poked her tongue just far enough between them to count as licking my arse if I, or indeed she, should want to add that to the list of acts performed in her diligent and heartfelt foreplay. Or perhaps she was sowing the seed in my mind to do it to her, which she didn't know I was definitely going to do anyway.

"Lie on the bed," I urged her. "On your back with your legs apart."

I saw a ...

... thought cross her mind:Don't tell me what to do,but it was instinctive and directed at her husband. A murk of resentment shrouded her sexual activity as a result of her relationship with that man. How he could have screwed this up so badly I really didn't know. Just one of those obnoxious people, perhaps. Assertiveness and pushiness can get mixed up, and what turns a naturally submissive woman on can also turn her right off if there is a suspicion of the abusive about it.

The cloud quickly dissipated from Helen's face and she lay there exposed and happy because I wasn't her oppressor. She was expectant and with maybe a tremor of apprehension about what lay ahead. As long as apprehension doesn't spill over into fear, it can be like seasoning on food, just livening it up a little.

I pushed Helen's legs far apart and left her in no doubt that I was inspecting her genitals, smelling her and generally savouring her in my own anticipation of devouring her womanhood. I plunged my face in there and licked her hungrily. I sucked her labia and pulled them out with my lips as if I were eating tagliatelle. But this divine pasta had the most incredible natural female sauce.

Helen gave herself to my tongue and the gentle force of my mouth. She knew my intentions were benevolent - entirely dishonourable, of course, but with the sole purpose of filling her brain with lustful good energy and taking her up through the gears to a cruise control where anything would be not just permitted but ...