The Cottage - Chapters 1-3 - Sex Stories

The Cottage - Chapters 1-3

... tip-toed forward, planted her feet, and brought her mouth to Cal’s cock. With only her lips and tongue, she scooped it up and began to gently lap at his plump, round head inside her mouth. He stiffened immediately, and she couldn’t help but smile, remembering how quickly a young man’s cock could come out to play. In time, Cherie summoned the courage to slide Cal deeper into her mouth and toward her throat. She surprised herself pleasantly when her jaw opened, and his head touched her tonsils.

He groaned softly. Her eyes lurched upward. His remained closed.

Cherie continued. She slid her lips up his shaft and down and around the base of his cock, sure to taste all the salty residue he had unknowingly left for his aunt. With each cycle of indulgence, separated by stuffing him down her throat, she felt the heat and moisture and yearning build between her legs. Cherie felt like her body was calling her in a way she had never felt before, in a way that felt exciting and wrong and thrilling and horrifying all at the same time. And then she thought about her husband breeding her best friend, lurched upright, straddled Cal on the bed, grabbed his girthy cock, and sat down until she felt his head split her opening in painful bliss, filling her completely and coming to rest against her cervix.

His eyes flung open. Hers narrowed. She smiled down at him, pressed a hand to his chest, put the other in her hair and ground herself against him. He opened his mouth to speak, thought ...

... better of it, and sank his strong hands into her hips to push deeper into her. They couldn’t deny it now; they were in a forbidden dance of passion—a dance reserved for lovers, for strangers in the night, for souls lost to the wind finding each other again, but not a dance one does with their kin, their family. They went along, silently panting at each other, their bodies arching and swaying with the rhythmic beating of their love until Cal’s hands moved up and under Cherie’s yellow top, feeling for her nipples, finding them, and beginning to stroke them gently, as he pressed his cock further and further into her. Wrapped in ecstasy, Cherie curled towards the ceiling, a grand orgasm building in her loins and thundering through her trunk and out her lips as a guttural, pleasureful groan. She careened toward him and kissed him the way one does a soldier going to war. He grabbed a fistful of her hair as she broke the embrace and held her so he could whisper into her ear, “I’m cuming, Aunty.”

She smiled, but it was short-lived. At that moment, as Cal’s thrust grew urgent and less controlled, Cherie heard a rustle from the closet on her left. Her grinding slowed, and Cherie looked over.

“Where do you want it?” gasped Cal, mesmerized by how Cherie’s labia hugged his cock. “On your face?”

Cherie studied the closet doorway. The folding doors had a slight crease, with the joint protruding an inch or two.

Cal’s hips bucked in shorter and shorter bursts, and his eyes clamped ...