breast sucking

This story is based on reluctance and coercion in an interracial lesbian setting. It’s fantasy, for the enjoyment of people who take pleasure in such themes. But if this type of storyline is not for you, thank you for stopping by but please pass on.



Chapter 1



My moans urged Pierre on as he thrust down into me. This was the first time my husband had fucked me in our new home and with the moonlight peeping in through the partially open curtains, it was even more of a thrill than I’d anticipated.



What twenty-five year old girl wouldn’t be turned on by fucking in a four poster bed in a French mansion? Pierre had lived there for several years and now it was my home, too.



He grunted as I wrapped my feet around his heavily sweating back. With an affectionate growl, I dug my heels into his ass and pushed him even deeper inside me.



Suddenly the air was full of expletives. Pierre couldn’t hold back his language during moments of extreme passion and it never failed to increase my arousal. Was there a sexier language than French? It was that accent that had first attracted me to him. We’d been making love for well over half an hour and sweat was dropping from his forehead onto my body. Despite the twenty year difference in our ages, his stamina matched mine. I closed my eyes, momentarily reflecting on how good life was.



Everything had happened so quickly.



We’d only met six months ago and now I was his wife. It had been a whirlwind courtship, carried out across Europe while he pursued his goodwill Ambassadorial duties for the French government and I carried out my modelling commitments. We’d managed to spend most of that time in one another’s company, apart from one weekend when he was delayed in Zurich while was on various catwalk’s in Milan.



Pierre was panting hard now, a sure-fire indication he was closing in on his orgasm.



“Let me on top, darling,” I told him, wanting him to last just a little longer.



I slid from underneath him, manoeuvring our positions so that I could settle on his lap. His eyes went to my freckled breasts and I shook them at him before bending forward to allow him to suckle each erect nipple in turn. That always made me cream.



If I sheathed him again he’d cum almost immediately and I wasn’t ready for that. Before he could react I shuffled my body upwards, leaving a damp trail of juices across his stomach and chest as I slid my sex towards his face.



“Just for a few moments, Pierre,” I told him.



He needed his orgasm but I wanted satisfaction first and with my knees clamped over his arms, he had no way out. An Irish girl at University loved bringing me to orgasm this way and while that was a few years ago now, how could I forget?



Marie O’Flanagan had been eighteen then, the same age that Pierre’s daughter was now. I hadn’t seen Françoise since the wedding. The eighteen year old was as beautiful as her father was handsome and we got on well together, thank God.



It would be early tomorrow morning when she arrived with a friend of hers to spend a long weekend with her father and I. That had given us tonight alone to enjoy ourselves. Pierre was not only a good lover, he was charismatic, wealthy, and had already taught me much about the finer things in life. We were a perfect match.



I clamped my thighs around his head, gripping his hair with one hand and encouraging his mouth to my sex. The French had a real talent for cunninglingus. When he stretched his neck upwards and ran his tongue across my clean-shaven opening, I shuddered.



“Yes, darling, like that,” I moaned, grinding down onto his Gallic lips. “Just like that…”



His arms curled under my thighs, holding me in position as I began to gyrate. He knew how wild this position made me and I began to growl as I rode his face. As he sucked my clit between his lips I leant backwards, resting one hand on the bed and circling his thick girth behind me with the other. I wanted him hard for when the time came.



Just as it had always done under the oral ministrations of the red-haired Marie O’Flanagan, my orgasm quickly sprinted through me. I always came harder this way and I waited until Pierre’s experienced mouth had sucked up my juices before slithering back down his body, scraping my breasts and hard nipples along his sweaty chest.



“Such a good boy,” I whispered, sheathing him and jerking down on his hardness. “Now it’s your turn…”



*



Pierre was already out of bed, conversing in French on the telephone as he paced the bedroom floor. There was some problem in Brussels and his advice was being sought. I slipped the cream silk robe around my naked body and left him to it, sauntering out onto the large balcony and allowing the warm morning sunshine to hit my face.



This was my new home and I breathed in the glorious French air as I rested against the stone balcony rail. The view across the grounds was stunning, a series of rolling hills with not another building to interrupt the vista.



Could life get any better?



A noise from below caught my attention and I leaned forward to gain a better view. Two young women were stretched out on the sun beds beside the large outdoor swimming pool. The curly haired black girl in the red bikini had a voluptuous body but it was the honey tanned white girl I recognised instantly.



The short cut blonde hair was unmistakeable, as was the slender athletic body on display in the skimpy gold bikini. I’d suggested to Pierre that she could easily make her way in the modelling world and I’d already sounded out a couple of photographers. Ever the pragmatist, he wanted her education completed first.



The two of them were casually spread out on their sun beds, chatting, when suddenly the black girl pushed up into a sitting position. As she reached for the bottle of sun tan oil her full breasts bounced tantalisingly inside the loose confines of the bikini top. I felt my nipples rise in approval. I hadn’t been into girls since Marie O’Flanagan, but my reaction during Fashion shoots confirmed I could still appreciate the female form.



Some of the other models had stunning figures but none of them quite like this one.



With a frustrated sigh, I began to turn away and chastise myself, but I caught further movement out of the corner of my eye. Françoise’s young friend had handed the bottle to her and was casually unhooking her bikini top. I quickly turned back, an unwanted voyeur. Her naked breasts—surmounted on their crests with chocolate, almost perfectly circular nipples—defied gravity as they thrust proudly from her young body.



A pool of appreciation formed between my thighs.



Pierre’s voice made me jump. The thought of being caught watching his daughter and her friend flooded my body with guilt and I began to swing away before I realised he was simply informing me he was about to take a shower. The warning should have been sufficient for me to return to the bedroom but as I heard the en-suite door close I was unable to prevent my gaze from glancing downwards again.



Both girls had changed position. The black girl, still topless, lay back on the sun bed, both hands behind her head. Françoise was kneeling beside her, holding the bottle of sun oil over her stomach and allowing the dark liquid to trickle slowly downwards onto that ebony coloured flesh. There was something intensely sensual about the scene.



When a small pool had formed on the girl’s skin, Françoise began to work the oil across the glistening skin of that flat teenage stomach.



I imagined the young girl’s eyes were closed but beneath the dark sunglasses it wasn’t easy to tell. It occurred to me that if she looked upwards it would be impossible to miss my head craning over the balcony and I leant back a little and checked behind me. Pierre couldn’t to return to the bedroom without my hearing the en-suite door open but even so, my voyeuring guilt made me nervous.



There was a definite sensuality to watching one woman oil another and when Françoise’s hands rose upwards to cup and massage the oil into those delectable black breasts, I felt my breath catch. Any pretence at simply applying some suntan protection had gone. Her movements were sexual as she kneaded those magnificent swells.



I told myself to return to the bedroom but I was hypnotised.



Françoise’s fingertips came together with each sweep to delicately pinch those chocolate nipples and the girl’s back arched a little under each touch. When the faint sound of a mewing noise floated up to my ears, I felt my own nipples begin to tingle.



Suddenly the black girl spoke again to Françoise. I couldn’t quite hear what was being said but she was giving an instruction. Pierre’s daughter nodded obediently and reached for the ties on the girl’s red bikini bottoms. With a theatrical, almost slow motion pull of her fingers, she freed each in turn. My breath caught in my throat.



The girl lifted her ass so that Françoise could pull them from her now naked body and I felt a surge of static electricity as my eyes drifted down to her cleanly shaven pussy, the skin a deep ebony colour like the rest of her body. Most of the models I worked with preferred the bare look, too, while I held an affection for my own dark landing strip.



Françoise trailed her hand across the girl’s baby-smooth sex, her white fingers providing an erotic contrast to the black flesh. Her movements were lazy and unhurried, and it was clear this wasn’t the first time they’d engaged in such a practice.



The girl spoke to her again—another instruction?—and a smile creased Françoise’s face as she nodded. She bent forward to suck one of those delicious nipples into her mouth at the same time as sliding a single finger inside the girl’s sex. It occurred so gently, in such a matter-of-fact way that, at first, I wasn’t sure it had happened. But then the black girl’s hands were gripping the top of the lounger behind her as her body began to gyrate on the working digit.



My heart was pumping and I couldn’t resist the urge to reach inside my robe and run my fingers across my rapidly emerging clitoris. Watching them was an incredibly illicit sensation and it was difficult to judge if guilt or arousal was my primary feeling.



The girl spoke to Françoise once more and I gasped as Pierre’s daughter withdrew and then licked her finger. As she shifted position so that she lay between the girl’s legs, it instantly became clear what she had in mind and the shock hit me like a thunderbolt. Despite the privacy of the mansion, they must have known that either Madeleine—the housekeeper—or even her father or I could interrupt them at any moment.



If they did, they didn’t care. The black girl caressed Françoise’s hair just as Pierre’s daughter’s tongue was beginning its journey across the dark, glistening opening.



The sound of the en-suite bathroom door opening made me jump out of my skin. My husband’s sense of timing was wretched and the thought of him finding me watching his daughter go down on her friend sent blood rushing to my face. I leapt up and quickly headed back into the bedroom, guilt written all over my expression.



“What’s wrong?” he asked, towelling his hair.



When his eyes flicked over my shoulder towards the balcony, I thought for an awful he was going to check out there and my survival instinct kicked in. I grabbed his arm and pulled him with me to the bed, opening my robe as I fell onto my back.



“I need you,” I mumbled, opening my legs. “Lick me…”



*



Pierre and I had emerged for a late breakfast and were immediately joined—their bikinis covered by kaftans—by his daughter and the black girl, who was introduced to me as Sherrilyn. The young teenager turned out to be a ‘close’ friend who Françoise had met at their all-girl private College. Pierre had told me that they’d become inseparable lately and I was beginning to understand why.



Despite their activities by the pool, neither showed any undue affection for the other and I would have swallowed the friendship story had I not known otherwise. Thank God that Pierre had no idea. Even though he was imbued with the normal French laissez-faire approach to most things, I couldn’t even guess at what his reaction might be.



Throughout breakfast the two teenage girls bombarded me with questions about my career and wanted to know the ins and outs of the modelling world. Françoise was her normal gushing self while Sherrilyn was more reserved, very much in control of herself and her emotions. When she spoke to me she made a point of looking deep into my eyes as if she was listening to my thoughts as well as my answers.



When, eventually, Pierre said he intended to drive into Deauville to visit the local wine dealer, Françoise asked if she could accompany him. She hadn’t seen him for ages, she pleadingly said, and it would give Sherrilyn an opportunity to get to know me better. Her teenage friend had just smiled at me, those penetrating black eyes not missing a thing.



Before they left, Pierre led Sherrilyn and I to the conservatory and made sure we were settled comfortably. He gave me a soft peck on my lips and then asked Madeleine—the housekeeper—to bring us two glasses and a bottle of expensive red wine from his collection. He promised that they’d return within the hour.



“Do you think I could make it as a model?” Sherrilyn asked, once Madeleine had departed and we both had a full glass of burgundy in our hands.



I smiled, but felt goosebumps running up my spine at the recollection of her naked body.



“Absolutely,” I replied.



I kept my voice steady. Was it the image in my mind’s eye of Françoise going down on her that made me feel nervous? Being so well travelled and used to seeing all sorts of things going on when the other models partied, I normally took things in my stride.



She rested her glass on the small table beside her. Smiling at me, she gracefully rose to her feet and stepped out of the black kaftan she wore over her red bikini. Without a hint of embarrassment she sashayed across the room, stopping at the far end to send me a model-like stare before walking directly towards me. One hand in her hair, the other on her hip, she stood not more than a couple of feet away and raised an eyebrow.



“Well?”



I fought back the tightness forming in my chest. This wasn’t an audition; it was some sort of sexual challenge. Pierre and Françoise had been gone for less than ten minutes and the teenager was deliberately displaying her body to me. Why would she do that? She couldn’t have seen me watching the two of them, could she?



“You have a good figure, Sherrilyn,” I non-committaly said, “but there are lots of young women with good figures who want to get into the industry.”



I kept my voice soft and cold as I delivered the put down. I had no intention of being intimidated by a teenage girl.



“Mmm-hmm?” she murmured, cocking her hip to one side.



She studied my expression as she picked up her wine glass, as if trying to get inside my mind. After taking a long drink she replaced the glass and, without warning, her hands went to the back of her red bikini top. My eyes widened in surprise she untied the back and pulled it from her body. As she wanted, my gaze was drawn to those well-nigh perfect black breasts as they bounced and settled.



“What about my tits?” she asked, as she provocatively cupped them with both hands. Her black eyes didn’t move from mine as she rolled them in her palms. “Some women think my ass is my best feature but others love my tits. What about you, Adrianna?”



I took a few seconds before answering. The girl knew which spots to hit.



“There’s a lot of demand for well-endowed models nowadays,” I said, trying to keep the conversation within the context of my career. “But it’s not just about your breasts. It’s the whole package, your body, look and personality. How you look on camera.”



“You misunderstand me,” she dismissively answered.



Her hands went to her hips, exposing her full breasts to my gaze again. They bounced before settling and despite myself it was impossible to stop my startled eyes from admiring them. Her chocolate nipples were so hard…



“I was interested in your personal preference. You like women, after all.”



I felt my breath catch. She was deliberately pushing my buttons and there could only be one reason for her comment. I’d been seen.



“No I don’t,” I lied.



My eyes dropped to my glass as I swirled the wine around the insides. It was obvious to me where this conversation was heading and I refused to meet her intimidating gaze as I desperately tried to think of a way out. She didn’t give me one.



“Did you enjoy watched Françoise service me by the pool, Adrianna?”



The words startled me. Service her? Those were a word that Marie O’Flanagan used when she was in a mischievous mood.



“I saw you watching us from the balcony.”



I played dumb but the flush of my cheeks betrayed my embarrassment.



“The balcony?” My heart was palpitating. “I wasn’t watching you, Sherrilyn. I was just taking the air.”



She simply smiled and we both knew that I had been caught in a lie.



“I was watching you all the time you spied on us,” she calmly responded. “That’s why I told Françoise to go down on me. It was quite a turn on, having her service me while you watched. I could sense how turned on you were.”



She turned her back on me and swayed back to her chair. My eyes dropped to the way the skimpy red bikini bottoms clung to the firm cheeks of her black buttocks. They were fractionally too big for her body but that only enhanced her appeal.



“Did you tell her father?” she asked, swinging around and flopping down into the chair.



The question took me by surprise. “Of course not.”



“Good. He wouldn’t approve.”



I felt a prickle of annoyance. How would she know what Pierre would approve? So what if his daughter was gay or bisexual. Most young women were into experimentation nowadays. She read my mind.



“At college, my friends and I have are members of a club we call Black Sorority. We each have a little white girl we let go down on us. Françoise is mine, although we do share them around from time to time.”



Shock was written all over my face as I struggled to comprehend her words. They were clear enough, but difficult to believe. She’d been playing with me until now and that disclosure was almost a knockout punch.



“So you see, Françoise’s father wouldn’t approve, would he?”



I shuffled in my seat. The girl was only eighteen and she had me speechless.



“Did it excite you, Adrianna?” she asked, increasing the pressure. “Watching us?”



My mouth was suddenly parched and I took a sip of wine to ease the dryness as well as give me time to think. She took advantage, sliding her fingers inside her bikini bottoms.



“Do you want to watch me now?”



“Sherrilyn, stop this, we both know it’s completely inappropriate. Whatever you and Françoise get up to is between yourselves. Don’t—”



I paused as she slouched lower on her seat and I found my gaze drawn between her thighs. I could see the curl of her fingers under the thin red material, the way her arm was flexing. Her breasts swayed slightly with each movement. I should have instantly told her to stop but the words wouldn’t come out. She took advantage of my confusion.



“Most young white girls can’t get enough black pussy. What about you?”



I felt my cheeks burn. She was sitting there, only a short distance between us, masturbating while she talked dirty to me. Thoughts of my time with Marie O’Flanagan flooded my mind. The way she used to make me go down on her with just a few well chosen words. I could see her sex in my mind’s eye as I sank to my knees to worship her. Only this time it wasn’t her. It was a black pussy.



I could feel was a fire burning deep inside my loins. Sherrilyn must have felt it too.



“It’s in the eyes,” she said, pulling her hand away from her lap.

Was that disappointment I felt?



She slowly rose from her seat, her black breasts swinging as she sauntered across the short divide between us. As she drew level she touched her fingertip to my mouth. I reflexively drew away from her but not before I had unwittingly licked at my lips. It was a taste I hadn’t experienced for a long time.



“We both know what you want, Adrianna,” she murmured, implanting the suggestion deep in my mind. “The eyes always give it away.”



Her teenage hips swung from side to side as she headed out of the room. She was so confident that my gaze was fixed on her ass that she didn’t even look back to check.



As soon as she was out of sight, I licked my lips a second time.



*



I watched spellbound through the conservatory windows as Sherrilyn emerged outside by the pool. She casually pulled loose the ties on her red bikini bottoms and then, naked, dived fluidly into the pool.



Madeleine appeared at the door from nowhere, asking if she could help me in any way. It struck me that her full figured body was a deeper shade of black than Sherrilyn’s and I shook away the thought before telling her I intended to take a nap.



Once in my room, I doused my face in water and filtered everything that had happened through my fevered brain. Why had I allowed her to control the conversation like that? Was it guilt at having been caught watching her and Françoise? Or was it some inner need that had lain dormant ever since Marie O’Flanagan had returned to Ireland?



I could still taste her on my lips and as my tongue eagerly flicked across them again, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Guilt was written all over my face, but so was arousal. This was wrong, wicked, but I had no choice. I slowly and deliberately eased my hand under the hem of my dress and down inside my panties.



The immediate sexual charge was almost overwhelming.



I desperately tried to conjure an image of Pierre, of Marie O’Flanagan even, but all I could see was Sherrilyn, that voluptuous black body, and the way she’d so openly masturbated in front of me. What had she said?



“Most young white girls can’t get enough black pussy. What about you?”



It was impossible to contain the growl that emerged from my throat.



I widened my legs and planted my feet firmly on the ground, giving myself leverage as I lifted onto my tiptoes. My clit responded as images of a naked Sherrilyn filled my mind as she settled her sex over my face. A finger slid inside my wetness like a knife through butter and my orgasm begin to swirl. A second finger and it was there.



My eyes closed as the spasms wracked my body and I could hear Sherrilyn’s voice again.



“We both know what you want…”



Chapter 2



I twisted around on the large bed, frustrated by the events of the last twenty four hours.



I’d watched Françoise go down on her friend by the pool, an insane act considering they were out in the open. Sherrilyn’s influence must have been absolute for her to agree to such a thing when her father could have interrupted them at any moment. Yet not only had she agreed, she’d performed eagerly, as if she was being granted a favour.



As for me, I should have been appalled and yet I’d watched the two of them from (what I’d thought) was the safety of the balcony. Worse still, I’d touched myself under my thin robe while savouring every lewd moment of their overtly sexual activity.



Little had I known that Sherrilyn, beneath her large sunglasses, had observed my voyeuristic interest and made Françoise put on a show for my benefit. I wondered whether she’d confided in Pierre’s daughter that I’d been there, observing them? I needed to know and while I couldn’t openly ask Françoise, I could look for signs. Her demeanour would give it away, surely?



Then there’d been my conversation with Sherrilyn. She combined the body of a voluptuous teenager with the mind of a Lolita-like character. I was still unsure about the Black Sorority, as she’d called them. Could that be true? It had crossed my mind to mention it to Pierre, but he’d be furious with Françoise, and she in turn would probably never speak to me again. Besides, my voyeurism would then raise its ugly head.



I was in a no-win situation, which was probably why Sherrilyn felt so confident in telling me. I felt little pinpricks of nervous energy cover my body. There was only one reason for her to confide in me and that was to attempt to draw me into her web.



As a result, I’d resolved to stay as far away from the two teenagers as I could during their visit this weekend. Until the phone call Pierre had received from the French government. His sudden need to be in Geneva overnight had complicated matters further. He’d been extremely apologetic, but had rushed away late afternoon with a promise he’d return in time for dinner this evening.



I hadn’t slept much during the night as without him my body was aching for release. Sherrilyn had lit the fuse and the growing heat between my legs was becoming harder to ignore. With a frustrated groan, I settled back into the piled pillows and reached again for my trusty vibrator. How many times had I used my ‘special friend’ during the night?



I was so wet that once I’d switched it on, it took very little effort to slip the long shaft deep inside my needy sex. I let out a second groan, this time longer. But just as I tilted it slightly to vibrate against my clitoris, the telephone rang.



Talk about bad timing…



I hurriedly switched it off but left the shaft inside, unable to resist the wonderful fullness as I grabbed for the phone,



“Did you sleep well without me?” the sexy French voice purred.



That surprised me. Hearing from Pierre when he was engaged in any sort of diplomatic mission was a rarity.



“I spent half the night awake,” I complained. “When you return I’ll show you exactly how much I missed you.”



His laugh was a warm Gallic sound.



“I don’t have long, darling, there’s a storm brewing here. The British don’t want to give an inch and neither do the Germans. But I just wanted to check on how you are.”



“I’m fine, Pierre,” I lied.



“And the girls? They’re more than old enough to entertain one another, I know, but I hope they weren’t too much trouble?”



They were more than old enough to entertain one another? A vision of their ‘entertainment’ entered my mind. My breath caught in my throat as I raised my hips from the bed and thrust the phallus deeper.



I’d stayed out of their way early evening, explaining to Madeleine that I had a few phone calls to make from my room. By the time I reluctantly emerged, I found to my surprise that Françoise and Sherrilyn had decided to visit a local casino and nightclub. They’d still been there when I’d retired to my bed.



I was unsure whether I’d felt relief or disappointment.



“No trouble,” I began to explain. “They went to a club together—”



But he was no longer listening.



“Sorry darling,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly distracted. “They’re waving me back into the meeting. I’ll be home tonight without fail. Au revoir.”



His voice was replaced by the dialling tone before I could reply and for a few moments I held the telephone in one hand before dropping it back onto its base.



“Sorry darling,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly distracted. “They’re waving me back into the meeting. I’ll be home tonight without fail. Au revoir.”



His voice was replaced by the dialling tone before I could reply and for a few moments I held the telephone in one hand before dropping it back onto its base.



My thoughts returned to Françoise and Sherrilyn and before I realised what I was doing, I felt the vibrator buzzing deep inside and I was slowly pushing it in and out. Lulled by the delicious friction, I slid a little deeper into the pillows and started to raise my hips to meet the movements of my hand.



I tried to think of making love to Pierre but the problem was that as I grew more excited it was not his image that came to mind but that of the two teenagers. I tried to dismiss it but my efforts were only half-hearted and each time I surrendered to the illicit thoughts I felt myself getting ever nearer to a climax.



One hand rose to my breast, my fingers caressing my sensitive nipples as I began to piston the vibrator in and out. What had started as a slow tease had quickly changed to an uncontrolled frenzy and I squeezed my breasts in time with my thrusts as I thought of ‘black pussy’. My body gleamed with perspiration and I tried to stay quiet, but what started as a stifled groan grew louder with each passing second.



When the tide finally broke inside my overheated body, I almost cried with the intensity of the orgasm. Lying back, heart palpitating, I let myself surrender to the repeated orgasmic waves as they beat against the shore.



When, eventually, they receded, I convinced myself to get ready and head downstairs. I couldn’t stay out of the way forever…



*



I’d showered, applied a liberal amount of perfume and changed into my skimpy black bikini. It was the most revealing of all my swimsuits but the need to display my own body was as overwhelming as it was confusing.



Was I trying to impress Sherrilyn?



It took only a few short steps to the balcony to confirm that the two teenage girls occupied two of the loungers by the pool. Françoise’s body looked hot in her striped bikini but it was Sherrilyn who drew my immediate attention. Her white bikini presented a breathtaking contrast to her black skin and heat formed between my thighs at the thought of joining them.



Hurrying back to the bedroom, I checked myself in the mirror again. The skimpy top barely held my cleavage in check and my nipples were already pushing through the thin material. Turning sideways, the small triangular strip of black material contained very little of my firm buttocks.



I nodded in approval and gathered up a towel, shades, my IPOD, and some sun tan lotion. Madeleine stopped me on my way outside, wanting to know my preference for dinner that evening. She kept me talking longer than necessary, her eyes continually flicking across my body as we conversed.



I felt my nipples rise further under her gaze. Was it the fact that she was black that brought goosebumps to my skin, or because she was admiring my body so openly? She hadn’t been so brazen during our previous meetings, but then I hadn’t appeared semi-naked in front of her before.



Whatever, her admiring gaze confirmed what I needed to know. I looked hot.



Sherrilyn was alone when I headed outside and casually sauntered across to the pool. I glanced around in a vain attempt to find Françoise but couldn’t see her.



“She’s getting us a drink.”



Sherrilyn raised her sunglasses onto her forehead as she spoke, shooting me that now familiar smirk. It wasn’t the first time she’d read my mind. I deliberately turned away and deposited the belongings I was carrying beside the spare lounger. She spoke again.



“That just has to be the best white ass I’ve ever seen in my life.”



The words sent pinpricks of heat through me but I wasn’t going to be intimidated.



“Thank you,” I nonchalantly said, turning slowly and raising my hands to pin my long brown hair behind my head.



She dropped her large shades back down, settling them onto the edge of her nose as she allowed her calculating eyes to lazily wander across my body.



“And tits, too. White girls with bodies like yours are in demand in the Black Sorority. My friends are going to love you.”



She half-raised herself from the lounger as she spoke, her heavy breasts threatening to spill from the barely adequate white bikini top. She stayed that way for a few moments, deliberately displaying herself and defying me not to stare. When my eyes betrayed me, flicking to those full breasts before rising to meet her gaze again, she gave a knowing smile.



“You’d like that? Meeting my friends? Can you imagine it, Adrianna?”



There she went again, planting suggestions again into my ridiculously susceptible mind. I swallowed hard, telling myself I wasn’t going to play her games.



“Don’t be silly, Sherrilyn,” I snapped. “You’ve had your girlish fun and I suggest it’s time to put an end to it. Françoise’s father would be distinctly unimpressed by this talk and you don’t want him complaining to your college, do you?”



She casually swung around on the lounger, resting back on her elbows. With her legs splayed wide, her voluptuous body was fully exposed to my view.



“You won’t tell Pierre.”



She spoke with a calm confidence and I felt frustration rise inside me at her open defiance. I didn’t immediately respond, sitting down on my sun bed before speaking again. It was important to show I wasn’t rattled.



“I wouldn’t be too sure of that, my girl.”



She seemed to ponder my words and I thought I’d hit home. But then her face broke into a smile. My frustration turned to anger but she was speaking again before I could repeat my threat.



“I’d say Françoise’s sexuality is her business, wouldn’t you? She loves being controlled and adores the times I loan her to my friends. She once went down on four of us in succession. Think of that, Adrianna. All that black pussy. Lots of white women crave it and she’s one of the favoured few. Is that so bad?”



Her face remained impassive and she spoke so confidently, so rationally, that I couldn’t immediately find a response.



“You’re excited by the thought, aren’t you?” she murmured, taking advantage of my hesitation. “It’s okay, Adrianna, you can admit it.”



My heart began to pound and for a few moments the lightness in my head made me feel dizzy. Yet again, the teenage temptress had hit the nail on the head. The images that were forming in my mind were proving difficult to shake away.



“Of course I’m not excited,” I snapped, the protest tumbling out of my gaping mouth too quickly. “And you don’t really expect me to believe all this nonsense, do you? I’ll talk to Françoise and—”



“Talk to her all you like,” the grinning girl interrupted. “But I have a better idea. Françoise, come here…”



I turned my head to see Pierre’s daughter walking across towards us. She carried a silver tray holding a jug of orange juice and some fresh tumblers.



“Put the tray down and come sit here,” Sherrilyn instructed, tapping the end of her lounger with the tip of her toes.



I shuffled nervously on my sun bed as I watched Françoise carefully place the tray on the ground between us. Somewhere in the far reaches of my mind, I think I realised Sherrilyn’s intentions. But no, that would be unbelievable…



“I need some attention.”



The teenager said the words to Pierre’s daughter but her eyes stayed on mine. With a twist of her hips she untied both sides of her bikini bottoms and dragged them away from her body. She lewdly opened her legs to display her tight glistening lips.



“Black pussy,” she huskily murmured, smiling at me. “What did I tell you? Look how much she wants it.”



I glanced at Françoise, my heart in my mouth. She was licking her lips as she stared hypnotically between the ebony coloured thighs.



“That’s it, baby,” Sherrilyn continued as my stepdaughter slid to her knees. “Why don’t you show Adrianna just how good you can be…”



Françoise didn’t hesitate, not even for a second. It was as if I was even there. Her hands settled on Sherrilyn’s thighs as she dipped her head forward. I watched, transfixed, as her tongue slid out and traced its way across that delectable black mound.



“Yes… lick it… like that…”



Sherrilyn’s hands found her short blonde hair, curling a few strands around her fingers. But her eyes were on mine. A smirk covered her face as she held my gaze as she lifted her hips to meet the worshipping tongue.



“Such an obedient little thing,” she murmured to me. Her smile widened as she watched my eyes narrow. “I’ve trained her well, don’t you think?”



My pussy was flooding with arousal and I could hardly breathe, let alone reply. I was mesmerised by the sight and it was all I could do not to touch myself.



Satisfied that they had my full attention, she wrapped her fingers around the top of the lounger behind her and stretched her body to the full. With a soft sigh, she pushed her hips up from the sun bed and began to gyrate on Françoise’s face.



I almost creamed there and then. Marie O’Flanagan used to rub her sex on my face like that…



Suddenly it was all too much. My hand slithered down my body, inside my bikini bottoms, and I began to rub my fingers across my clit. I licked my lips, recalling the taste as Sherrilyn had fed her juices yesterday. All of a sudden I had a finger inside my wetness and, astonishingly, I was already close to an orgasm.



When I turned my head back to the two young women I found Sherrilyn grinning at me. She had one hand on the back of my Françoise’s head, holding her in position as she lazily rotated her sex on my stepdaughter’s perspiring face.



“Black pussy,” she sexily mouthed to me across the divide, her full lips curling around each word. Her black eyes were clouded with arousal and she raised her voice. “Want to come and get yourself some?”



The invitation hit me like a sledgehammer. It was like watching a porno movie and yet it was pure beauty, like seeing the true face of eroticism for the first time. My sex began to pulsate at the thought of crawling between Sherrilyn’s thighs and I swear I was about to give in to the need when a sudden movement caught the corner of my eye and jerked me back to reality.



Someone was watching from the kitchen window! Madeleine?



I panicked, but even so it took every ounce of self control to drag my hand from between my thighs and raise myself from the lounger. What had I been thinking? I couldn’t be discovered like this! What if Madeleine told Pierre?



I turned away, needing to find refuge as quickly as I could. Racing across the patio, I hurried into the house and rushed up the curved stairs to the sanctity of my and Pierre’s room. Once inside, I threw myself down on the bed.



My hand worked with a frenetic urgency as I spread my legs. Gasping for air, I twisted my body on the bed and gave in to the wonderfully lewd images flittering across my fevered mind. In less than a minute, I was spending uncontrollably over my pumping fingers.



Chapter 3



Pierre had returned from Geneva later than he’d anticipated. The delicate and intense discussions had dragged on and on and even after they’d been successfully negotiated, his homeward journey had been fraught with difficulties.



I’d been apprehensive when Madeleine had prepared some supper and then brought him up-to-date with a few housekeeping matters, but to my relief she’d made no mention of my encounter with Françoise and Sherrilyn. Nor had her demeanour been any different on the occasions when she and I had spoken at various times throughout the day.



I’d begun to think I was mistaken in thinking our lewd behaviour had been overlooked.



I’d practically attacked Pierre’s body as soon as I had him in bed and had driven myself to three much needed orgasms before I’d allowed him to rest.



Once he’d fallen asleep I’d known he was out for the count. Particularly stressful days always had that effect. For my part, sleep hadn’t come easily. As the fears I’d nurtured all day about being exposed had receded, the vividness of my encounter with Françoise and Sherrilyn by the pool had increased. I’d seen a number of sexual situations during my modelling career, but nothing like that.



Even when I had dozed off, I’d woken from my sleepy state with my hand between my legs and two fingers deep inside myself. I soon worked myself to another climax while I’d allowed my fantasies to wander where they shouldn’t go.



I drifted on and off in my sex-fuelled dreamlike condition and remained in a state of high arousal when I eventual awoke. I could hear Pierre in the shower and when my thoughts had inevitably turned to the two teenagers again, I realised I had involuntarily begun to finger myself once more.

With a cry of frustration I dragged my fingers away. I had to find to put these unwanted thoughts out of my mind. The solution hit me instantly. I’d spent the night making love to Pierre and with my husband beside me, I felt secure. It was men that interested me, not women—whatever their colour—and the only man I wanted in my life was naked, in the shower.



I practically rushed out of bed and slipped quietly through the en-suite door.



Pierre’s eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw me and I slipped a finger between my lips and gave him my most mischievous smile.



“Want some company, darling?”



I stepped into the shower with him and took the gel from his hands, tipping the bottle so that the liquid covered my palms. I worked them into the creamy lather I needed to cleanse my mind as well as his body.



“You’re insatiable,” he told me, in that sexy French accent of his.



I giggled and started by sweeping my hands over the smooth skin of his chest. His hands found my breasts as I soaped him and I emitted a throaty growl. I momentarily wondered if Sherrilyn’s nipples were as sensitive as mine and violently shook my head to free my mind of the resultant images.



“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.



I didn’t answer but dropped my hand to his cock. This was what I needed. He moaned as I began to stroke his shaft and it grew impressively with each jerk of my curled fingers. When I brought my other hand to his balls, his body twitched.



“Nice and clean,” I teased, pulling both hands away.



I leaned closer, reaching around him with both arms and trapping his semi erect cock against my stomach as I caressed the liquid into his back.



Our eyes met as I flirted with the top of his ass and we smiled at one another. I slid my hands down and onto his hard buttocks and worked the gel into the crevice of his asscheeks. He moaned again and I leaned forward to run my tongue around first his right nipple and then his left.



Closing my eyes, I indulged myself for a few moments until my imagination took over and they were chocolate coloured nipples I was pleasuring.



I slithered downwards in attempt to rid my mind of the image and the water cascaded over me like a waterfall as I dropped to my knees. It dripped off my wet hair, dropping onto my face as I licked along the length of his hard cock.



Sherrilyn didn’t have one of those…



I took my time, staring upwards into his eyes as I licked from root to tip. This blow job would be my best ever work, defining me as a person and emphasising my sexual preferences. It would cleanse my mind of all other illicit thoughts.



I took the head into my mouth and curled my tongue around his crown. That always excited him. He widened his stance as I gently sucked and then he grunted when I took his hard balls in my hand. The water bouncing off our bodies heightened the moment and I coated him with my saliva, letting it drool down his length before working it into his stiffness with both hands.



“Good, darling?” I asked, slurping off his cock.



For some reason I need his confirmation, his approval.



Pierre glanced down at me as I sucked around the head again. I loved that dreamy look in his eyes. It confirmed everything I needed to know. I playfully ran my tongue around my lips and then lifted his cock upwards, holding it there for a few tantalising seconds before licking along the underside of his shaft.



He groaned out loud and cursed in French.



“Do you enjoy watching your wife do this?”



There I was again, seeking approval. When his grip on my hair tightened, I slid my lips down to his balls. One by one, I sucked them into my mouth. The way his cock jerked told me he wasn’t going to last much longer.



“Cum for me, Pierre,” I slurped. But that wasn’t enough. I wanted to be humiliated. “On my face and in my mouth…”



I frantically swallowed down on his entire length again. This time the need to tease had gone. His grip tightened in my hair and saliva dripped from my mouth as I frantically worked on him. I gripped his balls more tightly and took the thick base of his crown between my teeth, growling like a dog with a bone.



He sent a volley of curses into the air and tried to drag my head away. But I wasn’t going to be denied my prize.



I momentarily held him there, trapped between my lips, while my eyes flicked upwards into his. We both knew the moment had come.



When I plunged my mouth downwards again, he planted the soles of his feet on the floor of the tub and roared out his first release. The sensation was almost overwhelming. I swallowed hard then jerked my head away, taking the second blast across my right eyelid. The next hit me across the base of my nose and I reached up with my tongue to lick it between my lips.



Still, he wasn’t finished. Neither was I. With a snarl, I took him between my lips again, urging out the final blast. I almost creamed between my legs as it coated the insides of my mouth.



Sitting back on my haunches, I panted hard as I stared upwards into his creased face. My mind was consumed with an overwhelming sense of relief. I loved cock, not pussy. Françoise and Sherrilyn were returning to college tomorrow.



No more temptation.



*



Getting through the day had been easier than I’d anticipated.



Maybe it was the blow job, but more so because the teenagers had been on their best behaviour throughout. I knew I should have taken Françoise to one side and had a woman to woman chat, but it was as if yesterday hadn’t existed. She seemed so natural around me that I didn’t have the heart to raise the subject.



Besides, her sexuality was her own business. That’s what Sherrilyn had said. I weakly ignored the fact that going down on another woman in public wasn’t exactly the best way to express that sexuality, nor was servicing four black women, one after the other, as part of this thing called the Black Sorority.



Why did that thought make my body temperature soar?



But ignoring those extreme acts was a convenient way out of my predicament. Why create a problem by raising the subject when she’d soon be back at college?



Sherrilyn’s attitude had been different, too. She’d reined in her blatant sexuality and I was shocked to realise that part of me had been disappointed. I’d found myself watching her, craving another helping of the sexual interplay, trying to find a way to manoeuvre some time alone with her. If it had been her intention to turn the tables, she’d played her part to perfection.



Alcohol was partly responsible for my state, of course. Too much drink induced an intense feeling of horniness whereas it invariably sent Pierre into a deep sleep.



Because of his visit to Geneva, he had promised Françoise and I that we’d have his full attention today. Apart from a couple of morning telephone calls, he’d been as good as his word. The four of us had enjoyed an unhurried lunch at a local tavern and that’s where the drinking had started. By the time we headed back to his mansion, we’d consumed several bottles of expensive wine.



More drink had followed throughout the rest of the day while we’d discussed Françoise’s future, some of my more glamorous modelling shoots and a number of Pierre’s more extravagant adventures. By the time we needed to change for dinner, the four of us were in various states of intoxication.



I’d had Madeleine bring us some black coffee when we’d retired to our room. I didn’t want Pierre falling asleep during dinner. I’d drunk some, too, in an attempt to calm myself. I’d have fucked him again but it wouldn’t have removed the itch that had crept back into my system.



Get through the evening, I told myself. That’s all I had to do.



*



“Dad’s always funny in this state,” Françoise suddenly announced.



We’d met again on the patio for pre-dinner drinks half an hour ago. Despite our intentions to slow down, we’d all enjoyed a couple more glasses of red.



“People think he’s stuffy, having such an important job,” she slurred to Sherrilyn and I. “But he knows some great jokes.”



Naturally enough in the circumstances, Pierre responded by telling a couple of humorous stories, but then egged on by his tipsy daughter he began to go through his entire repertoire. It was so awful and yet so funny that the four of us were soon in stitches even at the weakest of his jokes.



That was when Sherrilyn made her move. It caught me by surprise. Françoise and her father were in animated conversation while they helped themselves to more red wine and the young black woman took my arm and pulled me to one side.



“What d’you think?” she asked, holding out her hands.



With anyone else it could have been an innocent gesture. But not with her. The invitation was to admire her body, not the short yellow sundress.



“You look good,” I simply said.



It was the truth. Her gleaming breasts thrust proudly against the material and the two buttons she’d left undone allowed her heavy cleavage to spill over the top.



“Thank you, Adrianna. Did you confess to your husband?”



I played dumb. “Confess?”



Sherrilyn smiled. “About his stunning wife masturbating by the pool while watching his daughter go down on me. That was even worse than spying on us from the balcony, don’t you think?”



I pulled myself to my full height and ignored the pitter-pattering beat of my heart.



“I’m not having this conversation, Sherrilyn.”



“Did you finish yourself off when you reached your room?”



I bit down on my lower lip. If only she knew.



“I told you I’m not having this conversation…”



“Tell me this. What made you run away so suddenly? I was only offering what you wanted. I told you, it’s the eyes that are the give-away. It’s there now, that look. You’re craving for it all right, aren’t you, Adrianna?”



“Craving for what?” I defiantly asked.



Did I actually want to hear the teenager say the words again?



“What lots of white women crave. Black pussy.”



The words evaporated every piece of good intention in my body. How could she make me feel like this? So quickly?



“My husband’s listening,” I lamely replied, feeling weak at the knees.



“He’s talking to his daughter,” she said, stepping closer. “She’s so cute she can wrap him around her little finger. Look at them.”



I glanced in their direction. Françoise was sitting on her father’s lap now, arms wrapped around his neck, and the two of them were laughing uproariously. The hem of her white dress had risen up her leg to expose most of her tanned thigh and any casual observer could have mistaken them for lovers.



“Besides,” Sherrilyn continued. “He’s far too drunk to know what’s going on between us.”



I stared at her. She looked like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth and yet the sexual vibes she was transmitting were hitting their mark.



“Nothing’s going on between us,” I blurted.



“There’s not?”



She ran a finger across my cheek and along my lips, smiling into my eyes as I partly opened my mouth to her touch.



“Remember my taste?” she asked.



She took my hand as, facing me, she moved directly between Pierre and I. Not that it mattered. He was too busy with his daughter to take any notice. Holding my wrist, she slowly pulled my hand under the hem of her dress.



“No, Sherrilyn,” I gasped.



My objection made no difference. I could have resisted, tried to pull away, but I did nothing. She placed my hand onto the cool skin of her lower stomach.



“No panties,” she whispered, retaining my gaze.



Her grip guided my hand downwards. The feeling of her smooth, soft flesh was intoxicating and everything began to close in at once.



“Feel me,” she instructed.



My gaze flickered to Pierre and Françoise over her right shoulder but my hand couldn’t resist the invitation. My chest tightened and I breathed through my mouth. When I cupped her naked mons venus, I felt dizzy with adrenalin.



“Do it,” she told me, her breath hot against my cheek. “Finger me…”



I should have resisted, but she had me. My whole body was on fire. I pressed my fingers into the soft, yielding flesh and when she pushed her hips forward, I slid a single finger inside her sweet wetness.



The groan she rewarded me with found its way between my moist thighs.



“Black pussy,” she teased. “Those beautiful eyes tell me everything.”



She slowly pulled my hand away and held it up between us, directing it towards my mouth. I knew what she wanted. I wanted that, too.



Staring into those deep black eyes, I began to suck on my finger as if it was a penis. She nodded in silent encouragement and I sucked harder, savouring the taste of her teenage juices as I drew them into my mouth.



“Tastes good, huh?” she tantalisingly whispered, pulling the hem of her yellow sundress dress back into place again. “Just wait until you drink from the well.”



*



I’d been like a zombie throughout dinner. My emotions were being pulled apart. I wanted to avoid the voluptuous black girl until she’d left our house and yet I wanted to experience everything she had to offer.



Fortunately, Pierre had been far too inebriated to realise that anything was wrong and both Françoise and Sherrilyn had kept him entertained with stories of their friends and some of the things they got up to at college. Everything sounded tame, of course. But I knew the true story.



I’d refused any further alcohol, though it was far too late for that to have any effect. Pierre, on the other hand, continued to imbibe all evening long. It was as if Madeleine had been given specific instructions to keep his glass filled.



Sherrilyn had constantly included me in the conversation, but she had an ulterior motive. Each reference brought with it a soft touch of my skin by her hand, fingertips, or a surreptitious brush of her leg under the table. If her intention was to ramp up the sexual frisson floating around my body, she was successful.



My mind had eventually wandered off into a world of its own when I felt a soft tap on my arm. It was Françoise, standing beside me.



“Doesn’t dad look sweet?” she giggled.



I turned my eyes towards him. He was slumped back on his chair, eyes closed, gently snoring. Goodness knows how long he’d been that way.



“I’ve just told Madeleine,” she explained. “She’ll make sure he gets to bed.”



“Good.” Sherrilyn smiled at me as she brushed her fingers through her black curls and pushed back in her chair. “Time for some real fun…”



Chapter 4



I stood on wobbling feet, asking myself what I was doing in Sherrilyn’s bedroom, even though the answer was etched all over my sex-fuelled mind.



The combination of alcohol and anticipation making me feel disorientated and I rested a hand on the table beside me to steady myself. Sherrilyn sat on the bed, sexily swinging her long legs from side to side as she watched me. The coy smile on her face left no room for misinterpretation.



“Feeling it, Adrianna?”



She flicked open a third button on her yellow sundress as she spoke. More of her ebony coloured cleavage tumbled free and my heart began to palpitate.



I swung around as I heard the sound of the key being turned in the lock behind me. Naïvely, it hadn’t occurred to me that Françoise was still in the room. She leant back into the door, as if confirming I was trapped between the two.



“Don’t worry, Adrianna.”



It was Sherrilyn’s soothing voice. She could see the uncomfortable look on my face at the sight of my stepdaughter and I thought she was reassuring me. But as usual her words were designed to increase the sexual heat.



“She’s got off a couple of times on the thought of her new stepmother eating black pussy, haven’t you baby?”



My body almost melted. I opened my mouth to speak but no words would come out. Then Françoise was suddenly behind me, her hands on my bare shoulders. Before I knew it she had slipped her fingers around to unfasten the buttons on the front of my dress. She allowed it to fall to the floor and then slid her hands to my back. My nipples hardened as she released the clips of my bra.



I turned my gaze back to the bed and found that Sherrilyn had removed her dress. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her magnificent naked body. She crooked a finger at Françoise.



“Come here, baby.”



When Pierre’s daughter obediently moved towards her, she cupped her black breast and offered it to my stepdaughter. Françoise eagerly fell forward and sucked one of those chocolate coloured nipples between her lips.



“See how much she loves my tits?”



Sherrilyn’s voice was throaty as she asked me the rhetorical question. She raised one foot onto the bed, opening herself to my gaze, and stroked her sex expectantly.



“You’re going to love this, too, Adrianna. Come here, baby.”



I tried to remain where I was but the instruction was undeniable and the sight before me was intoxicating. I felt my legs move forward of their own volition.



“On your knees…”



I sank downwards as ordered. The control she exerted was as much a part of the moment as the black skin that so excited me. Up close, her sex was even more enthralling than it had looked by the pool.



“Come and get it…” she cooed, crooking a hand behind my head.



I gasped for breath as she drew me forward and my tongue licked across my lips in anticipation. The first hesitant touch of my tongue on her glistening black flesh unbelievably sent an orgasm flashed through my own body.



I was actually cumming just from the feel and taste of her sex!



Sherrilyn stroked my long brown hair as if she understood, allowing the tremors to work their way through my body before pulling my face back to her body.



“Black pussy makes you that hot, Adrianna? Show me what you can do…”



I instantly responded, unable to resist the glistening folds in front of my face. My fantasies had now reality and I lapped along the length of her labial lips, savouring a taste that was better than any fine wine of Pierre’s. I worked slowly to begin with but after a short while my arousal took over and I began to lick frantically, like a thirsty cat being offered its cream.



“Take your time,” Sherrilyn corrected me, tugging my hair. “There’s no hurry.”



I had to force myself to hold back, such was my intense need. I slowed my pace, licking along the whole length of her sex, delighting in the way she stroked my hair in encouragement. My eyes rose upwards to find her smiling down at me. Her other hand was cupped around Françoise’s head as she suckled on one nipple and then the other. I wanted those black breasts in my mouth too.



“Wait a moment,” she suddenly said.



I paused at the instruction, inches away from her most intimate of places and obediently waited for permission to continue. She whispered in Françoise’s ear and my stepdaughter reluctantly moved away, out of my sight. Turning back to look at me, she stroked my cheek.



“Keep looking at me with those eyes…” she murmured.



She pushed her body back on the bed, crossing her arms under her head as she lay back and made herself comfortable. When she stroked her fingers across her sex, I understood the instruction instantly. Crawling up and onto the bed beside her, I settled myself between her thighs.



Dipped my head back to her waiting sex, I flattened of my tongue and traced the contours of her prominent mound. With a lustful growl, I covered every inch of flesh available to me, unaware of what she had planned.



“Smile for the camera…”



It took a moment for the words to resonate. When they did, a cold chill ran through my body and I jerked my head to the left as I heard a click Then another.



Her whispered instruction to Françoise was suddenly clear. My stepdaughter stood beside us, camera in her hand, capturing every expression on my face. She clicked again as Sherrilyn raised her sex to my lips, and continued to fire off one shot after another as the teenager dragged my head back in place.

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