mf f-solo oral sf



TWICE AROUND FOR KAJA 

I loll near the edge of the bed, humming, deliciously well fucked and
feeling sinuous and lithe and a little delirious: drunk again, of course,
but drunk with sex, with Kaja and our lovely new toy. Oh, he *is* lovely. I
slide my head around enough to look at his muscular body. He has a hairy
chest, which is more Kaja's taste, but oh it's blond, he is so completely
and beautifully blond, even his pubic hair, and it sets off his big smooth
cock quite nicely. To look at this man's skin is to make your mouth water to
taste it. And I think he looks like Sting, although Kaja told me earlier in
the bar that I was seeing things. I think he looks a lot like Sting. Let me
see things. Let there be things, and I will see them, and I'll say they're
skookum. And his eyes are not too pretty, not too blue, and his mouth is
delectable, so that's all right. Oh, it's more than all right.

I'm lightly exhausted, a little light-headed, actually, and so I relax and
close my eyes and listen to the silk sounds of skin sliding against skin as
Kaja kisses down the length of his body and now she must be delicately
licking just around his balls to tease him because I hear his breathing
hitch and change, and I feel an empathetic clenching in my cunt, and without
thinking about it I spread my legs and feel the warm, sex-drenched air
against my (by this point) slightly swollen but deliciously satisfied bichi.
Ahh, I could do it again, feel him smoothly and tirelessly pounding his cock
into me and out of me again and again . . . but not just yet. It's Kaja's
turn.

I keep my eyes closed. I can hear him beginning to move and moan, and the
soft wet sounds that must be Kaja's mouth engulfing his marble-hard,
velvet-warm cock, and I know it must taste of me, and I open my legs wider
yet against the empathetic rush of moisture inside, and my clit feels so
big, so insistent, almost whimpering against the air, but I won't touch, I
want to think about it for awhile.

And as I lie there, listening to the moist murmurings and his soft wondering
sounds of delicious torment, my attention draws down and coalesces like
smoke around my clit, and my mind is filled with it, bigger than life and
twice as horny, firm and slightly swollen and yearning. I am dimly aware of
thrusting against the air, slow rising and then the turning of my hips as I
fall again, and my clit yanks my attention back to it, and suddenly I
understand that a clit has a cock-like nature at its straining heart, that
these two things begin the same in the womb, and strive always to be
reunited - and I can feel what it would be like, bigger, longer, hard,
twitching with eagerness to plunge, to be engulfed in the tightness, the
wetness -

My eyes are closed, but now I behold the bodies next to me, I clearly see
his fine rigid cock as Kaja nibbles at its tip with her lips. And there in
the perfect surreality behind my eyelids I draw with my will a fire line, a
glowing streak like captive lightning, from the center of my clit to the
center of his cock. I am holding my breath. Can it be done?

"Magic do as you will," I murmur, and TUG on the fire line -

And my eyes snap open onto the ceiling and I am lying there, yearning, on my
back, and my wild hopes crash to earth. I glance to my left to see my lovers
- and stare stupidly at the wall.

I swivel my head, raising it up off the bed. I am lying there, legs open,
seemingly asleep, breathing deeply and evenly - over there.

I turn my head back, still holding it up, and find Kaja sitting back on her
heels, smiling at me invitingly - she thinks I am What's-his-name. I can
barely keep from giggling. I sit up, climb to my knees, stare down at my
stolen body.

Oh, it's beautiful. The cock juts out from my body and defies gravity, so
hard and hot: the moisture from Kaja's mouth is evaporating in the warm,
sex-drenched room and I can feel it all over this impossibly large new clit.
The flesh of the scrotum tightens and the balls feel tight and heavy and
there is nothing in this world that I want but to pump and pump and relieve
this awesome pressure in spurting, in coming.

I look up at Kaja and my smile twists What's-his-name's face in unaccustomed
ways.

"Ready, lady?" I rasp happily - bigger lungs, bigger throat, bigger mouth,
but it sounds like me - and Kaja does a magnificent naked double-take. I
glance over at my own body lying there asleep, and she follows my gaze, then
looks back at me with wonder and hilarity fighting for control.

I break down into laughter and so does she, almost simultaneously. It's
fantastic, ludicrous - a delicious opportunity, and I don't know where to
begin . . . she leans forward to stare into his face for signs of me inside.
I don't know what she sees. Do my expressions translate accurately in this
new face? I'll ask her . . . later. I reach out with a big hand,
peripherally admiring the finely haired, muscular forearm with the lovely
strong veins standing out - I've always admired that in men - and cup Kaja's
chin, gently tilting her head up and I lean in and kiss her mouth, a harder
kiss than I would give her with my own lips, but as gentle as possible. I am
suddenly afraid of the strength crouching in this body, that it will get
away from me, unaccustomed to it as I am, that I will hurt her.

To cover my concerns, maybe to buy a little time, and certainly to ensure
her readiness, I settle Kaja onto her back and dip my head to breathe warmth
over her sex, and tentatively dart What's-his-name's tongue inside. A flood
of sweet-salt juices greets my inquiry: she is magnificently wet, already
was. The rush of moisture was only waiting for an invitation, and now,
freed, bathes her entire beautiful, small, glistening pink pussy, and an
ache of longing grips this cock, my cock, for now at least, and
involuntarily I groan.

"C'mon, lady," she says, an edge of a giggle twining around the near-moaning
quality in her voice, and she spreads her legs wider as if she can't help
it. I look up, not certain of the meaning.

"'C'mon'?"

There is humor in her face, but there is a soft flush of desire, and she
crooks her finger at me, beckoning me up.

"Come on . . ."

All the encouragement I need. But there is more. As I crawl closer, and
hesitate, she reaches out with her slim, small hand and carefully grips my
cock, her fingers firm but yielding - in the back of my mind I recognize
what she is doing, I could never have been on the receiving end of it
before, she is gauging the firmness and guiding its position, her legs are
so wide, her hips angled up to offer a direct access inside. Her knees are
bent, her little feet in the air, wet pink pussy with its pouting lips a
hungry, open target.

I know how she feels, from long experience: spread apart and open and
waiting, waiting, to be filled, stuffed full - but this side is so new, I
must take just another moment of the wanting, to savor it, the cock a thick,
fleshy extension of the spine, fine strong muscles in the back and legs at
the ready, and the power, I will admit it, the power of kneeling there
poised over this beautiful woman waiting for me to fuck her, to drive us
both to pleasure . . .

I would not care to speculate whether it is mercy or pure selfish lust that
finally prompt me to motion. It doesn't matter. Both cross my mind in that
moment, so both it must be. I pull back slightly as I settle my thighs up
against the back of Kaja's suspended ones, and she releases my cock and
reaches both hands down to her pussy, spreading the lips even wider, eyes
glittering at me from near-closed lids.

I take hold of my cock then, and guide the bulbous, ridged tip to the mouth
of her slit, and then I thrust in.

I cry out in pleasure and startlement at the incredible tightness of her,
hot and throbbing and encasing my cock in muscular softness, and she cries
out at the hard, hard bigness filling her, stretching her open, and for a
moment we regard each other, me buried to the hilt in her, both of us
reminding ourselves what is happening here.

Her eyes are wide, nearly glassy. She pants, "It's really you?"

I lean forward, resting on my hands over her. "In the fifth grade, once," I
grin down at her, throbbing inside her, "I told you a dirty joke and you
wouldn't talk to me for two whole days."

"Oh, come on," she scoffs, "it was only one dayyyahhhhh--!" as I pull back,
back through the slick embrace of her cunt, and slam forward again, and her
eyes slide shut and her mouth open. I am even a little deeper in this time
than before, if such a thing is possible, though What's-his-name's cock is
just the right length for Kaja, at its deepest penetration still reaching
just shy of her cervix. I cannot hurt her. The idea is almost more exciting
than that of being able to truly fuck her: I can give free rein to this
demanding appendage and not hurt her and not have to worry about hurting
her.

With the shred of self-possession I have left I say, "You have been taking
your pill?"

She opens her eyes partially, smiles crookedly, her face flushed. "Nice
lady. Yes. I've been very good."

"Good," I growl, still holding still, poised over her, surrounded and aching
to move. "I want to come inside you. I wouldn't know when to pull out if I
had to and I'm not sure I could. Oh, you feel so good, Kaja . . ."

"Hush up and fuck me," she whispers, and I obey her.

Without further teasing or experimentation - I couldn't if I wanted to, and
I don't, I want this, want and want it, and I am having it now, pumping my
rigid rod in and out of her incredible, incredible encasing cunt which feels
as if it's pulling me in, inexorable, thrumming with heat, open and grasping
and so tight, that word fills my mind, so tight as I lunge and withdraw,
lunge and withdraw, in and out and in . . . she is moaning, her voice which
begins light and almost high is deepening, hoarsening, dropping almost an
entire octave as I fuck her, pumping smoothly, watching her face contorting
into a near-feral grimace, she loves this, I am bringing her sweet pleasure
even as I receive it myself from her.

My cock is growing even thicker, even bigger, swelling against the
constricting walls, and she feels it, and we both realize that I'm going to
come. I wanted to make her come first, and I try to slow down, hold it off,
but she reaches around and grips What's-his-name's taut, straining buttocks,
insisting on the fast rhythm, urging me on.

"You're going to cooome," she croons, "let it happen, let it come . . ."

A sound to the side attracts our attention for a moment. There I am - no,
there he is, in my customary body, he would have had to go somewhere, after
all. There is my face, but I can see quite clearly even in my delirium of
lust that it is not me behind it, and the expression is foolish, confused,
mouth and eyes open wide. He is sitting up, staring at us, then looks down
between the legs of my own body at my visibly wet and engorged pussy. Almost
by itself the hand reaches down to touch the clit, gingerly, as if the
fingers might be burned. The fingers of my own body's hand look long and
elegant as they begin the rhythm to which they are so accustomed: I feel a
twinge of absurd pride.

I have taken all this in in the space of a few seconds. I cannot spare any
more attention. As one Kaja and I look back at one another, and her face is
triumphant and welcoming and she grips my ass and pulls me against her so
hard I feel I could almost go through her, over and over, in and in and out
and out and I am swelling, and a massive spasm is beginning in my almost
painfully tightened balls and boiling in my cock and it bursts all at once,
leaping, jerking, and I throw back my head and howl in victory and ecstasy,
my eyes squeezed shut, dark red explosions blooming against the darkness
behind the lids, and I am spurting hot and thick, heartbeat hammering in my
cock as I come and come in the dark, wet clutch of Kaja, straining, arching,
coming, as she wraps her legs around my back, holding tight to me as I howl
and strive. It seems to go on an impossibly long time, though I know it's
only several seconds really . . . and at last the wave has broken, the glory
of it ebbing slowly, and I bend forward to rest on my elbows, my head
cushioned between her breasts, heart slamming in my chest, I feel it all
through this body, thrumming in my cock as it begins to lose that marble
hardness.

Dimly I hear Kaja laughing softly in pleasure and wonder, dimly I hear
What's-his-name moaning in my voice as he approaches coming himself in my
body, and a roaring like water rises over me, drowning out all real sounds,
and a spinning, sparkling blackness sweeps over my eyes, a lost moment of
surrender and vertigo.

I jerk to consciousness in my own proper place in my own native body, my
fingers wildly rubbing my clit - awkward, it's my right hand, I'm a lefty,
but no matter: I am there, I come with violence, legs trembling, cunt
singing and shouting, clit throbbing and thumping with my pulse, and then
gradually the orgasm recedes, stars gleaming behind my eyes.

It takes me a few minutes to catch my breath, to come back to myself,
settling easily back into the skin that I have always known. Faintly I am
aware of What's-his-name sputtering incoherently, then the bedsprings jerk
as he gets up from the bed, stomps across the room to the bathroom, and
sulkily slams the door.

I open my eyes at last to stare into Kaja's. I know that our expressions
must be identical: we are gloating with the knowledge of the impossible
thing that we have done . . . and over cheating our lover not once, but
twice, of magnificent release. Well, it isn't kind, I know, but we certainly
aren't going to let him go home till we've made it up to him, and I say so
as I reach for my glass of deep rich red wine.

Our laughter rises so high and lasts so long that What's-his-name in the
bathroom turns on the shower to drown us out.

"What a night," says Kaja, still laughing.

"Yes," I reply, slowly sitting up, pushing back my tousled hair from my
face, and eye her with knowing greed. She is still flushed from fucking, her
own long hair a tangled riot of red-gold curls on her shoulders. I lean
forward to leer, "And *you* haven't even come yet."

She smiles at me. Slowly.