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o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order o
o other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories. o
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o All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for o
o profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance. o
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o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. o
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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Bill Clinton (MF)
by zifferman@aol.com (Zifferman)
Date: Jan 21, 1998
**
"Yes I am married, Mister President," she responded, absent-
mindedly bringing her left hand to her chest just below her neck
to display her wedding ring. Bill leaned back and admired her.
"My my my, your husband sure is a lucky fellow."
"Thank you." She was as nervous as she could recall. She was
beginning to fidget in her seat. Unconsciously she began to rub
her buttocks on the seat cushion.
Bill smiled as he watched her fidget. He knew that her squirming
was due to her arousal. Her labia were apparently swelling open.
Bill liked the way her jacket highlighted her large breasts and
the way the material was nipped in at the waist. He also liked the
way her skirt clung to her well-sculpted thighs in a sensual
fashion which highlighted her overall sensuality. He could see
that she wore no foundation garments, and from what he could
determine from the slight sway and jiggle of her tits that she
didn't wear a bra either. Everything on her body was real and
genuine. No padded bras, no silicone implants, no tummy tucks of
any sort. Her beauty came from genetics, not from a plastic
surgeon. He would like to explore more of that beauty. Indeed, he
would like to strip her bare, spread her wide, and examine her
closely.
He had difficulty deciding where to focus his attention. Tits or
thighs? Face or ass? Calves or nipples? Decisions! Decisions! The
work of a horny President was ceaseless and never-ending.
Again, Phyllis's heart went out to the President. The way he
gazed at her made her feel like the winner of the Miss America
beauty pageant. The blush in her checks deepened. She felt as if
she were on display in the front window at Macy's.
The President had a hunch he was getting through to her. "You
know, you've been asking me questions, do you mind if I ask you a
few?" "Well, I suppose not," she replied.
He noted that she had a shy and retiring way about her. He liked
that. Modesty was as much of a turn-on as a woman who was
blatantly sexual. He knew Phyllis wasn't the type to initiate
sexual activity with her husband. She was probably one of those
girls who was happy to lay on her back in the missionary position
and do what the husband wanted, when he wanted. She probably
didn't spread her thighs very wide during intercourse. Girls like
that were rare in modern-day America.
Because of their rarity, they were that much more fun to fuck.
"Do you mind if we retire to your dressing room?" he asked. "I
would be much more comfortable talking with you there."
Phyllis looked around her. "Er .. this is most unusual."
"Say yes, please. I want to do the interview, but I wish to do it
in private."
If it were anyone besides the President of the United States who
had requested that of Phyllis, she would have adamantly refused.
But how could a tax-paying citizen of the United States refuse a
request made by the President? It just wasn't possible. She had to
obey. It was her civic duty as a law-abiding non-felon American.
She prided herself on being a dutiful taxpayer. After all, she was
a good girl. All good girls did their duty. She grabbed her
clipboard and pressed it to her comely breasts. The womanly mounds
of flesh flattened slightly under the pressure. She noted that the
nipples had turned into hard little pebbles. She wondered why.
Usually they only did that when she was aroused.
It had been a considerable amount of time since she had last been
aroused. Her husband, Harry, had stopped arousing her a year ago.
Sex had become an infrequent event. "All right," she said. "Come
with me." Oh, he intended to come with her all right. In fact, he
intended to cum with her several times during the course of the
afternoon. He smiled wickedly at his own joke.
He smacked his lips as he watched her rise from the chair. He
took special delight in surveying her. Every time she moved, some
part of her body moved as well.
He followed immediately behind her. He watched the shapely butt
of the shapely reporter sway to and fro with that unmistakable
female rhythm. There was nothing more alluring than the sight of a
female ass in motion. Mmmmm! Mmmmm!
Over the years he had sampled a lot of pussy, but by far the best
pussy belonged to those women who knew how to shake their ass with
vim and vigor while stepping along. That shaking indicated the
ability to provide a nice tumble in the sack. It meant that the
woman knew her stuff. Mmmmm!Mmmmm!
From all appearances Phyllis knew all about shaking her shapely
ass. The rhythmic hip movements indicated either of two things:
first, that she already knew how to move that ass while fucking;
or secondly, that she was a woman who wanted to learn. Bill
smiled. He was going to have a wonderful time discovering exactly
how many ways she could move her ass. Mmmmm!Mmmmm!
Was she the woman who merely moved it from side-to-side, or was
she able to swirl it around like a corkscrew too?
Mmmmm! Mmmmm!
Just thinking about such salacious hip movements set off some
significant movements in his pecker. The sperm was beginning to
surge in the base of his balls. His cock was beginning to fill
with the syrup of love. The moment that Phyllis stepped into her
dressing room and closed the door, she realized that she had made
a mistake in agreeing to an interview away from the cameras. She
sensed the President walking up behind her. She felt him breathing
down her neck. She was just getting ready to protest when she was
pulled around to face him.
"Phyllis baby!"
"Mister President!" she gasped in alarm while looking up into his
face. "What on earth do you think you're doing?" She worried about
his motives. She had seldom been handled so roughly by a man
before. She had certainly never expected the President of the
United States to make a move on her. "I just want to sample those
sweet lips of Yours," he said. "But Mister President," she
exclaimed with a raised voice. "I'm a married woman." She brought
her hands up to his chest so that her forearms wedged between
their bodies.
He looked at her with a sultry smile and a sneer on his lips. "So
what?" he asked. "I'm a married man."
She could see that he was challenging her. His eyes bore directly
into hers. She could feel his penetrating gaze all the way to the
tips of her toes. "I know that Mister President. That's why I
don't think you should be behaving in such a manner. I don't kiss
other men." "Oh come on now. Surely you can give me just one more
little kiss! What would be the harm in that?"
"I ... I ... think that we ought to terminate interview."
"Terminate an interview with the President of the United States?!
What would the head of your network say to that?"
Phyllis gulped. She knew that Bill had a valid point. if word
leaked out that a rookie reporter had terminated an interview with
the President, her cushy job as a Washington journalist would be
terminated. Good lord! That meant no more parties in Georgetown!
That meant no more dining in fabulous restaurants. Good grief!
That meant no more expense account! Heaven forbid! That would be
the worst thing to befall an overpaid television reporter. Her
refusal might result in her being sent off to one of those awful
places like ... Rwanda, or Bosnia, or perhaps .... Boise! Egad!
She would rather face a firing squad than be sent to Boise. Death
would be preferable to such an assignment.
She now knew that she would do whatever the President requested.
She liked her cushy reporting job too much to jeopardize it.
Actually, she liked her megabuck salary and all the wonderful
perks which went with it even more. There weren't too many jobs
like hers where all one had to do was look pretty and stand in
front of a camera for five minutes per day. She got paid
handsomely for basically being a lovely talking head.
Bill could see that she was thinking things over. Ah yes! He
loved modern American society. People were so fucking scared of
losing their job (if they were lucky enough to have one which paid
a decent salary), that they would do anything to keep it.
"Tell me doll, how would you like to have an assignment inside
the White House Press Office?"
Those words caught her attention. "Excuse me?" she asked,
confused. Nothing excited a female reporter more than the
possibility of being invited to the White House. The only thing
more exciting was being offered a job in the White House. And the
only-thing better than that was being offered a job in the White
House press office. That was the top of the pyramid. That was the
best slot in the business. "Could you please run that by me again,
Mister President?"
He smiled his famous heart-warming smile which had won him so
many votes in the last election. In fact, he practically grinned
from ear-to-ear. Now that he knew he was getting through to her,
he decided to lay in on thick. That was the nice thing about
having power, he could wheel and deal his way between the thighs
of practically any beautiful woman.
Just like men, women all had their price.
Keeping his grin in place he said, "Just imagine, you wouldn't
have to do this on-the-road crap anymore. During the middle of the
winter you wouldn't have to stand out in the cold on the White
House lawn. You could stay inside and keep your titties warm. And
during the summer, you wouldn't have to stand out in the blazing
sun and humidity and worry about mussing your pretty hair. No
rain, no snow, no sleet, no hail. Just the comforts of working in
the White House. Wouldn't that be nice? Mmmmm! Wouldn't you like
an assignment like that?"
Phyllis blinked her eyes. She thought that she might be dreaming.
An assignment inside the White House.
WOW!
With her own office!
Double wow!
And she would probably have her own secretary!
Triple wow!
And if this was a typical government job, she wouldn't have to
work very hard and yet she would receive ten times the benefits of
people in the private sector. Hot dog! That was the kind of offer
which could convince a good girl to go bad.
Phyllis had done nothing to earn such an assignment. Heck! She
had only been with the network for a few years. She didn't even
have a degree in journalism. The only thing she had going for her
were her looks. But then, she noticed that her looks helped her
win a lot of promotions she didn't deserve. Oddly enough, she
noticed that, she always got picked for assignments because of her
looks.
"But ... but ... why are you offering me this?" she asked in a
soft trembling voice.
Bill smiled seductively. He stepped closer. The breath caught in
her throat as he lifted his arms and wrapped them around her. He
embraced her and held her close. She could feel his warm breath on
the sides of her neck. He seemed to be nuzzling it, getting ready
to kiss it.
He placed the tip of his nose on her earlobe. Gently, he rubbed
it back and forth a few times. She found that she liked the
sensation. It tickled her and made her feel good all over. She had
never guessed that the earlobe was an erogenous zone.
He kept his voice low as he whispered, "You have one of the most
scintillating bodies I have ever seen in my life."
She was feeling giddy. And yet, she was quite, nervous. "I do?"
she asked. "Oh yes," he replied, continuing to fiddle with her
earlobe. "I would say that it's as good as a Playboy Bunny."
"Oh, pshaw!" She knew she was pretty, but never thought she was
pin-up material.
"I mean it." He stuck out his tongue and touched the tip to her
earlobe. She felt it moisten. She became momentarily breathless.
Other regions of her body were also becoming moist. She couldn't
help herself. The fluids just seemed to flow.
"I would like to see all of you."
"All of me?"
"Naked."
Her eyes opened wide. In fact, her eyelids seemed to have
acquired the equivalent of lockjaw. They wouldn't close. She
couldn't blink. Now she knew the precise reason why she had been
offered a choice White House assignment. She was being coaxed to
going to bed with the President of the United States.
She thought such shenanigans went out of fashion with the
Kennedys. Phyllis knew she had to offer some resistance before
things got completely out of hand. "But Mister President! Your
wife!"
Bill giggled. "Hillery?"
"Yes! Think of her."
"Hillery sucks."
Phyllis gasped. "Mister President. You're speaking about the
First Lady!"
"The First Lady is a closet dyke."
"A...a ... a ... what?"
"A fag."
Once more Phyllis gasped. She couldn't believe what she was
hearing. How could the First Lady of the United States be a closet
homosexual? If Hillery were a dyke, what was she doing being
married to Bill? "Oh no!"
"Oh yes. Right now she's out in Hollywood, attending some bullshit
get,together with some of her bullshit Hollywood buddies. They're
all do-gooders you know. They're either attempting to save the
rain forests, or the oceans, or the beaches, or the little
animals, or people who suffer from hemorrhoids, or women with
leaking silicone breasts, or whatever. In the old days there were
a lot of worthwhile causes to get involved in-such as cancer, or
tuberculosis, or heart disease, or tay Sachs. However, the
Hollywood crowd has run out of truly worthwhile causes. The causes
nowadays are increasingly trivial. If they can invent a cause,
they do. Then they found a non-profit organization, make some
spots for television and radio, and start a campaign. Of-course,
the actors and actresses who promote these sorts of things care
far less about the causes they represent, than they do about
keeping their face in front of the pubic. If I know my wife
Hillery, she probably has her head buried between another woman's
thighs and she's probably eating her out at this very second. You
know, lap, lap, lap."
The news stunned Phyllis. She had long heard rumors about the
first lady and her sexual proclivities, but she had never believed
them. "Is that really true?" she asked.
"Yes ... I'm afraid it is," said Bill.
"But don't you have sex?"
Actually Hillery and Bill had sex all the time. In fact, they
fucked more than any first family had ever fucked. (With the
possible exception of the Kennedys-but then, Jack Kennedy was
always busy committing adultery on Jackie.) But the Clintons had
established a mutual understanding. If either one of them saw some
pussy which he or she liked, he or she would share it with the
other. It made for a happy homelife and a very happy White House.
Sometimes, Bill and Hillery would have a three way. Or, they would
invite some of the Cabinet members in and have an orgy in the Oval
Office. But Bill didn't want to tell Phyllis that. He wanted her
to feet sorry for him. Then maybe she would offer him a piece of
her very own succulent ass. "Mister President! You have your hands
on my buttocks!"
"I know where they are, Phyllis."
"I'm married. Please pull them away." She hoped that by making
that statement he would do the decent thing and release her from
his grip. However, the words only served to draw her closer to
him.
He paid no attention to her plea. Instead, he commenced rubbing
her posterior with the palm of his hand. He loved the feel of a
shapely woman's ass. There was something especially sensual about
cupping the cheeks of the female ass in one's palms, and running
one's fingers back and forth along the curvature of the flesh,
while at the same time pressing one's fingers into the resilient
mounds as if they were bread dough and he were a baker kneading
it. He pressed her closer to him by her ass. He fixed his rod of
flesh to that especially vulnerable region between the hollow of
her thighs so that she could feet his arousal. He adjusted his
pelvis so that she could discern the blunt end of his manhood. He
wanted her to know how he felt about her. He wanted her to know he
had a hard-on.
She knew he had an erection all right. She felt it rubbing
between her tightly clamped thighs, through the material of her
skirt and his slacks. And as a result she become even more worried
about his intentions. Surely he wouldn't be so bold as to make a
move on her! Surely he couldn't! He was the President of the
United States, for crying out loud!
But she could feel the evidence of his need. And because he held
her close, she could feel every single inch of it. It was making
quite an impression on her legs.
She attempted to appeal to his sense of decency.
"Mister President. I really don't think this is right."
"Sure it is. It's as right as rain."
"No it isn't. I don't play around. Really, I don't. Honestly."
He found that hard to believe. "All American women play around
nowadays."
"No they don't." She knew that a lot of women did in fact play
around. Indeed, some of her friends committed adultery regularly.
Some even went so far as to say that they couldn't go through a
week without at least one new lover.
"This is a hedonist society, lady. Where have you been?"
"I am not a hedonist. I am a happy and proud puritan."
Bill snickered. "Puritanism died a terrible death some time ago."
Phyllis became defensive. "Not with me it didn't."
"You're too beautiful to be a puritan."
His words touched hen Like all women, she responded to being
called beautiful.
"I don't care. I am."
"I bet that underneath that prim exterior of yours lies a woman
of incredible passion and responsiveness. I bet that other side of
you is yearning to break out and breathe free."
"You're very wrong, Mister President. There is no other side of
me other than what you see."
"What I see is quite gorgeous. Breathtakingly so." Once more she
was touched. Not only did he think her beautiful, but gorgeous as
well. Could he really be falling for her? Was it possible that the
President of the United States wanted to have an affair with a
lowly network reporter? She was quite confused by this turn of
events. She was now having doubts about her avowed puritanical
attitude. Perhaps she was a little too strict by today's
standards. Maybe she should play the field-at least once-just to
see what it was all about. Besides, when one was asked by the
President to do something, wasn't it considered patriotic to
follow? "I'm a lonely man, Phyllis. I really am."
She knew what those words meant. She knew where his line of
reasoning was going. He was preparing her for the conquest. "I
don't think I can do anything for you," she cautioned.
"You could ease my loneliness. You could make me seem whole
again. You could satisfy my carnal needs."
She took a deep breath and replied, "You have a wife to do that.
You don't need me."
"Hillery and I aren't sleeping together anymore. We haven't for
quite some time."
"Oh dear! Do you mean that you and Hillery no longer .. er...
You're saying that ... er.. I mean... " Phyllis had a difficult
time framing her question. She really couldn't ask such a personal
thing of him. Such questions were better left to Sam Donaldson,
the cutthroat journalist. Sam was terrific with those questions
which made a reporter resemble a son-of-a, bitch. The President
took the opportunity to answer. "That's right. We no longer do it.
Never."
Phyllis knew that denial of sexual intercourse was a terrible
thing to happen to a man. After all, men lived for sex. Men were
always getting erections and needed someplace to put them. She
knew that to be true because she was approached by wolves all the
time! Many of those wolves were married and had families!
But Bill wasn't like that. He couldn't be like that. After all,
he was the President of the United States. And as everyone knows,
Presidents don't lie. (unless one excludes Lyndon Johnson for
lying about ending the Vietnam War, and Richard Nixon for lying
about knowing of Watergate, and George Bush for lying about
raising taxes.)
But Phyllis was willing to give Bill the benefit of the doubt.
After all, he seemed like such a warm and caring man. He seemed
like such a nice fellow. She decided to be empathetic.
"Oh you poor dear."
Bill listened carefully to her tone of voice. He deduced that she
was sincerely sympathetic. He decided that he should press matters
further along. After all, he was quite horny. "My John Henry
hasn't had any female relief in ages."
"Your John Henry?" she asked, confused by the term.
"Yes, my penis. My cock. My pecker."
"Oh dear," she gasped when she had the usage verified. Now
Phyllis was extremely worried. Surely the President of the United
States couldn't have the same vile urges that other men did. He
was supposedly a good and decent man. That's what all the campaign
ads said. Did he expect her to satisfy his John Henry? Did he
expert her to play with his John Henry and put it into her vagina?
She certainly hoped not. She couldn't do such a thing to her
husband, Harry. After all, they had been married for only a few
years. They were still technically newlyweds. She was quite
satisfied with her marriage. She had no intention of straying. She
had no reason to cheat. "A White House assignment for a roll in
the sack," Bill said with a smile on his face.
Now Phyllis had a reason to cheat.
Ironically, at that precise moment, she noted that she was
feeling slightly aroused. She suspected the reason was because
Bill had a tender way of stroking her buttocks. He was quite
gentle. He took his time to lightly touch her flesh, and casually
play with her posterior globes. She breathed a sigh of relief as
she relaxed in his embrace. He seemed to have the hands of a
gentleman.
Although Phyllis didn't know it, the President also had the hands
of a practiced cunt hound. He had gotten laid as recently as that
morning-by his wife no less. Hillery had spread her legs wide and
had ridden him to blissful completion. She had even given him a
blow job before he went out to hit the campaign trail. She knew
that her husband thought better and spoke more dynamically when
his balls had been discharged of their precious cargo. "I need a
woman, Phyllis."
"Oh dear." She felt his arousal pressing against her lower belly
and on down to her thighs. There seemed to be a substantial knot
down there. It seemed to be knocking on her pubis, asking for
entrance to her feminine chamber. "But ... but ... Mister
President."
"Yes, you have a very lovely butt." Bill rubbed his palms upon
it, soothingly, lovingly, and caressingly.
She couldn't help responding to his agile fingers. She was
feeling better with every caress.
"The moment I saw you, I knew I had to have you."
"Please Mister President. Don't do this to me."
"Call me Bill."
Phyllis didn't like referring to him by his first name. However,
she would do anything to extricate herself from his pawing hands.
"Please Bill."
"I know you want it as much as I do."
"Please." Like all women in similar situations, her resistance
was rapidly vanishing. The longer he held her, the more he
caressed her ass, the more insistently he pressed his manhood
against her Mound of Venus, the more eager she was to consummate a
relationship with the Chief Executive. It wasn't long before she
began to press her pelvis against his, encouraging him. "That's it
baby, rub against me. Show me that you like me."
She did. She could feel her little pussy beginning to pout open.
Her cunt was acting like an out-of-control animal. It wanted to go
on a feeding frenzy. And she knew what it wanted. It desired cock.
And not just any cock either. But Presidential cock.
She began to think of the implications. She would be one of the
few reporters in America who had sampled a Presidential penis.
Mmmmm. For some odd reason she found that an appetizing idea. She
could feel her pussy tubing at that very second.
Once Bill recognized the tell-tale signs of a woman in need, he
wasted no time. He pulled her blouse tails out of the waist of her
skirt and, reaching up under her shirt and jacket, cupped her
breasts, placing his palms beneath them and rubbing the pads of
his thumbs along the underside. They felt firm and hot.
"Goodness," she gasped, surprised by the wave of pleasure which
rushed over her.
"Now, now. There's no need to worry. It's perfectly natural."
"But Mister President. I've never done anything like this
before."
"Neither have I," he tied. Of course, Bill Clinton did it all the
time. That was the reason he had entered politics. As a youngster,
he had noticed that Washington D.C. had some of the most gorgeous
women in the country. Since he was a real cunthound, he naturally
aspired to politics, where quality pussy was in abundance.
Taking one hand from a tit, he reached down. He lifted the hem of
her skirt. He angled his hand towards the vee of her thighs, which
by now were slowly parting, partly from fatigue, partly from her
own lust. He made a beeline for her crotch. His hand covered it.
"Ooooh Mister President."
He pushed aside the hem of her panties and stroked her throbbing
sex.
"You're moist," he said.
She was embarrassed by the juices flowing out of her. In a soft
whisper she replied, "Yes."
"Are you ready?"
"I ... I ... I ... 11 She couldn't answer. She was much too
flustered. He extended his index finger. Without a second's delay,
he pushed it into her.
"Oooh, Bill!" she gasped, puckering her lips as his fingers made
progress into her sheath. It was the first time since her marriage
that another man had touched her in such a blatantly sexual
manner. Ironically, she felt her body responding. In fact, she
welcomed the invasion into her womanly folds. To assist him, she
angled her pelvis towards him while at the same time sliding her
pussy downward onto his invading digit.
"That's the way, babe. That's the way."
"Bill, isn't this what is known as sexual harassment?" The
President cringed. He didn't want to hear a question like that. Aa
Governor he had already been sued once for sexual harassment. He
didn't want it to happen again. He had to think fast. "Oh no. This
isn't sexual harassment."
While his finger was inside of her pussy she asked, "Then what is
sexual harassment?"
"It's when a common ordinary citizen makes an unwanted move
against a member of the opposite sex. We politicians be guilty of
sexual harassment." "But what about Senator Packwood?"
The President snapped his finger. "A perfect example. He's still
in office, isn't he?"
"Hey! You're right. Politicians really are above the law!" "You
see. That's why I'm the President. Now if you don't mind, I'd like
to have you spread your lovely legs a bit more because I want to
get into you much deeper."
"Oh, of course." She was now so aroused, she was willing to
assist him in the assault on her beautiful body. Each stroke of
her pussy made her feel better. Each tickle of her twat sent her
further into orbit.
"Let's lie down," he suggested.
"Should we?"
"Of course we should." To demonstrate his need, he pushed her
over to the couch were she fell backwards. Because he was so
horny, he sank to his knees and lifted the hem of her skirt all
the way to her waist. And to dispense with any encumbrances, he
ripped the panties from her body. "Bill!" she shrieked.
"Keep those legs of yours spread wide. I'm coming home." And with
those words, he zeroed in on her womanly treasure. "It's muff
diving time."
"Muff diving? What on earth are you talking about?!"
She learned the answer to that question in only a matter of a
nanosecond.
The leader of the Free World's tongue was soon moving up and down
the length of her slit. She practically had a heart attack when
she felt his flesh touch hers. "Oh. Bill! You shouldn't do that!"
Even her husband didn't do that! He stuck his tongue into her
slot.
"Oh Bill!"
He licked her liquid essence.
"Oh Bill! Oh Bill! Oh Bill!"
He reached up and pulled her labia wide apart so he could get his
tongue more deeply into her.
"Oh Bill! Bill! Bill!"
Phyllis had never known such pleasures could take place. Her body
responded with liquid pleasure. She was melting in Bill's embrace.
She spread her legs a little wider so that he could have greater
access to her choice meadow. She had never conducted an interview
like this before. And she had never expected such an event to take
place with a President of the United States. She now knew why he
was called the Commander-in-Chief. With that tongue of his women
would follow him anywhere.
"Oh Bill! Oh Bill! Oh Bill!"
With each coo, sigh, and gasp, she arched her back a little more
and she forced her pubis against his face with that much more
determination. Now that she knew the joys of cunnilingus, she
wanted more. And more.
And more!
In fact, she wouldn't mind spending the remainder of her days
supine and being licked out. She reached down between her thighs.
She placed her hands on either side of her pubis. She pulled her
labia apart. She wanted him to have the fullest access possible to
her womanly charms. He fulfilled her silent request by making long
strokes with his tongue all the way from her perineum to her
clitoris. He laved the entire area until it was thoroughly
drenched with both her secretions and those of his tongue. "Oh
Bill!"
It didn't take her long to realize that she had been shortchanged
in her marriage to Harry. Her husband had never once offered to
provide her with such bliss. He was from the old school.
Apparently he thought that cunt-sucking was a taboo practice. She
sighed contentedly as she allowed Bill to delve.
So this wasn't so bad, now was it...
THE END