Clay For The Potter - Sex Stories

Clay For The Potter

... candlelit room.

The potter uncovers her breasts and turns her face back toward him. “Focus on me, Esme. My hands are bringing you to life, and that’s nothing to hide.”

Esmeralda glances back at the window to find the silhouette had not moved, then discovers she’s grown wet between her legs — so wet that her skimpy red panties have become uncomfortably glued between the crevices of her sticky lips.

The observant potter notices her shifting bottom and maneuvers her to lie comfortably on the bench.

“Patience, Esme. I’ll free you of your panties in due time.”

He drags a fingertip down the valley between her breasts to the side slit of her dress, cut up to her hip. She shivers as he rakes his short nails down her exposed thigh. The voyeur outside steps closer to where his warm breath fogs the glass pane while he massages his cock through his trousers.

“See all of me, please,” she begs, her voice becoming quite raspy.

The potter’s excited by her burgeoning confidence but still wants to set the pace of her revival. Very slowly, he tugs on the delicate dress fabric, raising it over her knees, then up her thighs, and hesitates at her crotch as if he’s about to unveil a prized piece of art.

He kneels on the floor at the end of the bench and tugs her hips until her bottom is on the edge and her legs drape over his broad shoulders. Only then does he flip the front of her dress over her crotch in one hurried movement. Esmeralda gasps at the unexpected quickness ...

... of it all. Before she can catch her breath, he tears her panties off and slings them over his shoulder. They land on a nearby coat rack much closer to the window.

Their unnamed voyeur swallows the saliva that suddenly floods his mouth. Unconsciously, he presses a hand against the pane, splaying his fingers as if beckoning the sopping wet panties to come within his grasp.

The potter, however, is only focused on the breathtaking site before him. “If only I could bottle these shades of pink between your legs, Esme.” He moans, unable to tear his eyes from her glistening lips. “Would make a perfect glaze for my creations.”

“Kiss me,” she says, reaching down and boldly spreading her lips with her long crimson-painted fingernails. “Here.”

He groans and adjusts the stiffness trapped in his pants. “That’s it, Esme. You’re free to ask for what you want here.”

His warm breath blows on her sensitive lips before he replaces her fingers with his own and wildly tongues her pussy. Her back arches off the bench amidst ravenous calls for more. The potter thumbs her puffy clit, drawing more begging from Esmeralda. His tongue plunges into her molten core, licking and lapping at the wetness that keeps coming.

Raising his head from her tasty cunt, the potter asks, “How many of my fingers do you want?”

“Two,” she gasps. “No three,” she pleas, feeling deserving of more.

Without hesitation, he thrusts three of his fat fingers into her eager cunt, roughly fucking her while his ...