Brush with the Little Death

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[The mini-series Mount Bliss continues from “Casual Encounters”]

“Oh, I’m so tired. I’m sure I’ll sleep well tonight. I bet a construction crew banging away with a jackhammer wouldn’t wake me tonight! Good night.” Those words of Lily’s, spoken just before she went to sleep, were reverberating in Lo’s ears. Lo lay on her back, wide awake, thinking about those words. Was Lily trying to tell her and Collin something? “A jackhammer.” Hmmmm. Was she intimating that Collin could go at it with Lo in his bed? Was that permission? Or was she just casually saying that she was tired, unaware of her word choice? Lo couldn’t get the thoughts out of her mind. She considered and reconsidered. Do I sneak out of Lily’s arms and slide my way into Collin’s bed? Do I jill it here, in the darkness, next to Lily, across from Collin? Whatever she thought, falling asleep wasn’t one of the options. She was too excited at the moment. She looked over at Collin. Could he see anything in the darkness? She certainly couldn’t. Not yet. No motion. No silhouette. Was Lily asleep? Her breathing sounded as if she was.

Lo could feel her pussy secreting little lust-drops beneath the sheets. She was in a strange state of arousal. The arousal stemmed from her inability to even move. A lithe Lily, nearly nude, lying next to her. A lumberjack of a man indistinctly there in the near distance of the darkness. And her own body, ready, waiting to be touched. Longing to be fucked. She thought about her nipples and how hard they were, unplucked in the draped stillness of the unlit room. Her neck, unkissed, her blood rushing through the veins to her head with a steady, fast pumping. Her earlobes, desirous of a tongue that would titillate them, of teeth that would nibble at them, and of close breath that would gently blow upon them. Her groin ached with pain in its uncaressed longing for a tongue, a finger, a cock. Anything, even her own soft sensation upon it, would do. But as she was, she could not even venture down there for a quick rub. This was a state of denial to which she was unaccustomed. Unaccustomed? No. Unacquainted. She never had to do this. Abstain, that is. At least not in recent memory. It had been so long since her last good pounding. Masturbation was fine, she thought, but fucking was finer.

The images swirled in her mind of cock, of Lily, of pussy, of her own hungry cunt. Porn, so close on her phone, but unthinkable to turn it on. She was turned on. Turned on to herself. She clenched her pussy tightly and released, trying, unsuccessfully, to induce a hands-free orgasm. She’d heard of it done, but had never tried it. Wait, that’s not true. There was that time on the Buddhist retreat, in seated meditation, when she figured out how to make herself cum without moving. But then she was seated in the lotus position. Now she was reclining, with a body cuddling her. Everything in the room seemed to scream of sex in the still, deafening silence.

She ever so carefully, so slowly, so gently removed the draped arm of Lily from over her torso and placed it with all due dexterity beside the body to which it belonged. She surreptitiously slid her bare legs over to the edge of the bed. She furtively felt for the carpeted floor beneath her. She found it. She sat up, silently. She assessed the situation. Lily sleeping. Collin alone in his bed. She snuck, slow as a sloth, from her bed to his. She got under the covers next to him. She gently kissed his shoulder, his bicep, he chest, his neck, his lips. His eyes opened without the slightest surprise. He kissed her back. She moved her hand down between his legs and felt his enormous, hard rod eager for her caress. She slid her palm up and down the shaft. Long, luxurious strokes. He kissed her more passionately. She positioned her body over his and slid down, her wet pussy dripping down the inside of her thighs. She felt the girth of his member stretch her lips wide as she shifted and rocked gently to accommodate all that he had to offer. In he entered, like a large rocket docking in the mothership. She took it tip to base, a satisfied grin on her face. He met her descending movements with ascending thrusts. Soon they became more forceful. He wanted to dominate her, to own her cunt with his cock. Using his strong arms, he rolled her over onto her tum in the bed and he got behind her. She positioned herself like a bitch in heat, waiting to take his firm meat between her fleshy pussy lips. He didn’t hold back. He entered with urgency. He entered with command. He entered her like a boss. She loved it. She lapped it up. He put his big hands on her hips and pulled her back so that now he was standing at the end of the bed, pounding her from behind. Bam, Bam, he rammed it home with complete disregard for the smacking sound his hips made against her round ass. Complete disregard for the fact that his young niece was sleeping in the bed next to them. He punished her with his cock and soon he was rhythmically ramming her like the jackhammer that Lily had mentioned. A quick whack, whack, whack, ever louder, ever faster. Lo couldn’t keep her pleasure to herself. She let out a moan, then a groan, then a scream. She met his every shove of his cock with a powerful reverse shove of her ass until she was dripping and squirting for the brief intervals that he was at the threshold of her labia. She was calling out to her god and asking for more, thanking her deities for the dick that punished her puss. She could see out of her peripheral vision in the darkness Lily propping up her head with her arm to watch in silence. She watched her uncle fuck her best friend. She watched as Lola squirmed and squirted, screamed and sighed. She watched as Collin beat the bum and swollen mons pubis of her sex-craved friend. She watched as both of them came with ecstatic delight and collapsed upon the soaked sheets of the hotel bed next to her. She watched with keen interest as they both panted for breath and then she said with a neutral tone of disinterested observation, “I think Lola likes you Uncle Collin.”

Actually, dear reader, none of that happened except in Lo’s racing mind as she struggled for release. Sorry to disappoint.

But then Lola got an idea. Yes. It was possible. That would do the trick. If she could only reach to the nightstand without disturbing anyone. She extended her right hand. She searched around for it, groping in the darkness. She found it! Yes. She pulled it back to her like Gollum grabbing the Ring that Rules Them All. Slowly, surreptitiously, secretly, she maneuvered it under the blankets, between her legs, into her wet, wide pussy. The shape and curvature of the handle of her hairbrush fit just so, snugly inside her where she could flex her Kegel muscles on it, giving her the sensation of a cock, deeply lodged inside her.

Yes, yes, that was it. That was the spot she needed to hit. With her right hand she could gently move the brush, wiggling it side-to-side, up-and-down, deeper in, a little out.

She was perfectly primed and ready.

But wait! Of fuck! I hadn’t thought of this, I hadn’t planned on. . . fuuuuuuuuuuuck. The orgasm. The climax. The clenching of the walls of her cunt, pushing the brush handle out the way it pushes out cock when cumming hard. The inevitable squirting. Fuck fuck fuck! The gripping of the sheets with her fists. The biting of the lip. The convulsing of the stomach muscles. The necessity for silence. And then the great relief as the waves of pleasure and pain ebbed and flowed through her veins.

And then the embarrassment as Lily squeezed her tightly, kisses her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “It’s ok.”

[For more sexy stories and pics: mysexlifewithlola.com]

Written by

Just your average nymphomaniac next door. I love fan mail: downloladown@gmail.com

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