Young Cunts - Act One: Shall We Start With Cunts? - Sex Stories

Young Cunts - Act One: Shall We Start With Cunts?

... than Emma Jane, she was a tall, strongly built blonde with a square jaw, full red lips, and huge natural breasts bulging behind a black leather basque. Her right hand grasped a small riding crop, which she extended so as to gently stroke the undersides of Emma Jane’s tits.

“Oh yes, stroke my scars, Hildy,” muttered Emma Jane, cupping her breasts in her hands, lifting them up so that Hildegard’s crop could reach under them better. “That’s so fucking good.”

“Of course, it is,” crooned Hildegard, running the tress of the crop along the length of each of Emma Jane’s scars in turn: that’s because you’re a needy fuckslut. Proper whores like me don’t need to get tit-jobs, because we are content with our slut-bodies as they are. It’s pathetic damaged shame-ridden bitches like you that need the training, the buttressing, the constant reassurance – isn’t that right?” Hildegard smiled wickedly.

An exquisite shiver of humiliation-ecstasy passed through Emma Jane’s body. “Oh God!” she moaned, revelling in the feeling of the leather tress stroking the underside of her breasts. “Please, Hildy, reassure me, buttress me, train me – I need that so bad…”

Hildegard chuckled, shuffling forward off her chair to kneel up in front of Emma Jane so that her lips could gently brush against her tits. Hildegard liked this girl: her first female English fuckbuddy since arriving at Cambridge a fortnight ago. Emma Jane may have been middle-class, but she was as needy and lost as any other ...

... English fuckslut – and in her experience such girls were always the best: they asked for a lot, but they put up with a lot. And, Hildegard hardly needed remind herself, they were just as dispensable as anyone else.

Hildegard opened her mouth wide so as to engulf as much as she could of Emma Jane’s very large right tit. She smirked to herself, feeling the unnaturally firm texture beneath her tongue, so different from her own jiggly specimens. But, however fake her breasts might be, Emma Jane’s sexual desperation was real, and boiling over. “Oh God, Hildy,” she squealed. “Suck my tits, baby, suck my big fake shame-ridden tits!”

Hildegard sucked and slobbered, transferring her lips and tongue back and forth from one luscious melon to the other, till Emma Jane’s silicone-stuffed pillows became sloppy dripping mounds, and spit dribbled down her abdomen. Hildegard’s left hand scooped up some of the saliva and plastered it on Emma Jane’s vulva, rubbing it with four fingers in a circular motion till Emma Jane squealed, “Oh God, Hildy, my cunt, my cunt, get your strapon and fuck my pathetic cunt – please!”

“Gladly, Emma Jane – but what do I get by way of payment?” smirked Hildegard.

“Oh God, Hildy, anything: I need you so bad. What shall I do for you?”

Hildegard smiled – a combination sort of smile, part genuinely affectionate, part self-congratulatory. “Come and lick my pussy first then, Emma Jane, there’s a good girl,” said Hildegard, returning to the sofa and spreading her ...