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[Author note] I’d like to give a shout-out to user Sildani, who commented on an earlier chapter that it would be nice to read about Josh tit-fucking Isabella. I decided that I couldn’t agree more.
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Within our ménage à trois, our little secret society, our sovereign nation-of-three, Ellie was undoubtedly the alpha. She often served as screenwriter, choreographer, and director for our little plays. I myself always felt like something of a bystander, but that suited me just fine. I was not, nor am I now, terribly verbose. I’m happy to spend my time reading and listening to music in headphones. I’ve never possessed the machismo I see in other man. It isn’t that I lacked libido–actually, I had begun to suspect that mine might be hyperactive. Which, of course, made my cohabitating situation ideal.
It was Isabella who ended up surprising me the most. She had endeared herself to me and Ellie when she first came to work at the bookstore just a few months after we had. She was sweet and reserved; a stunning, voluptuous Latina from New York City, an English Lit major at a small Liberal Arts school which butted right up against Ellie’s Private Women’s College. She read serious books for school, but she liked reading trashy, mass market romance novels too. Her sense of humor was subtle, given to clever, biting satire or the rare-but-hilarious impression of her Puerto Rican Grandmother. She dressed smartly, never wore make-up, and had a smile that could light up an entire room.
After the three of us had begun having sex, Isabella’s penchant for experimentation revealed itself slowly, at least at first. One afternoon I came home from my shift at the bookstore, late because of the usual delays on the T, and desperate for a bathroom. I walked into the apartment to find Isabella sitting on the toilet with a rather large sex toy vibrating on her crotch. I would later learn that this was a Hitachi wand. Isabella was wearing an oversized T-shirt and panties and nothing else–her preferred hangout attire. Ellie was out running errands. Isabella had her eyes closed and was in deep concentration. She had definitely heard me come in. “Just…a second…” she said.
“Come on, I really have to go,” I said.
“Use the sink, if you have to,” she said without looking at me. “Or, if you can wait…I can think of something I’d rather have you do…”
I resolved to hold it for as long as I could. Our experimentation with Golden Showers and pee play was progressing, and I had the feeling that whatever I was currently witnessing was part of it. I was right. Isabella breathed more intensely. There were little catches in her breath as if she couldn’t quite exhale all the air that she’d taken in. More rapid gasps–I could tell she was going to cum. She quickly removed the wand from her panties and, just as she did, I heard a noisy splatter hit the toilet water as she peed voluminously through her panties. She rubbed her clit through her underwear and moaned with pleasure, fully wetting herself as a wave of orgasm overtook her body. “Oh, yes! Fuck, that feels good,” she said. Then, to me, panting a little as she said it: “Do it. Now. Pee on me, right on my clit. Please.”
Without hesitation I took my dick out. It was growing hard, but not so much that it overrode my need to urinate. I pointed it down at Isabella as she sat, piss still running steadily from her soaking wet, dark blue panties. I released, letting my stream hit her panties right over her clit. My stream was powerful thanks to my desperation, and Isabella looked ecstatic as my piss ran down her crotch and splashed into the toilet to mix with hers. I felt immense relief, involuntarily giving that little shiver that sometimes happens during an especially pleasurable urination. My stream slowed, and I finished with one final spurt. Isabella put down the Hitachi wand at the istanbul travesti side of the toilet, looking quite satisfied with herself.
“That was even better than I thought it would be,” she said with a sing-song voice. I was still standing in front of her, cock-in-hand, looking down at her erect nipples showing through her T-shirt, and at her soaking wet panties. She raised her eyes to meet mine. Not moving from the toilet, she reached out and gingerly played with my cock and balls, relishing feeling me grow hard in her hands. She smiled. “Come on” she said, standing up. She led me out of the bathroom, stripping off her wet panties on the way and tossing them in the hamper we kept in the corner.
I followed Isabella into her bedroom, which was cluttered but neat. Every available surface had at least one book on it. Unframed art adorned the walls–a mix of black-and-white photos and local artist prints she had collected. She detested overhead lights, preferring the warm light of floor and table lamps or, better yet, candles. Both of which she kept in copious amounts around her small bedroom. She walked over to her bed and, aware that she was still soaked with urine from both of us, hastily threw a towel over the sheets before she sat down on it. She pulled her shirt up over her head, revealing her incredible breasts. They were very large, but they seemed to be unnaturally buoyant, somewhat in defiance of gravity. Her perfectly round areolae were like Oreo cookies placed atop two big coffee ice cream scoops. Delicious.
Not wanting her to be alone in her nakedness, I unbuttoned my shirt as I walked over to her, placing it on her desk chair (the only place without a small stack of books). As for the rest, I knew she preferred to do the unwrapping herself. She, still seated on the bed, undid my shorts and swiftly pulled my underwear down with them. She took me into her mouth and I felt myself getting harder. She put both of hands on my ass, pushing me deeper into her mouth. She noisily sucked me, lubricating me, though I didn’t yet know what she had in mind.
She drew back, letting my hard-on fall out of her mouth, and she laid down. She grabbed her breasts and pushed them together impressively. Looking from her cleavage to me, she said “Here. I want you to fuck me here.” I had fantasized about this moment–particularly since Isabella had begun to hang around the apartment braless. Her tits were practically begging to be fucked.
I got up on the bed and straddled her, my knees on either side of her torso. She let her breasts fall open slightly, giving me the opening to slide my hard cock in between them. I was still slick from her saliva, but she gathered herself and spit on me once more, for good measure. Then she pushed her breasts together again, completely enfolding my erection in her soft, beautiful flesh. I looked down–white shaft disappearing into brown skin. Her nipples were standing fully at attention. I felt captivated by her body, and overcome with lust. I had never fucked a woman’s tits before, but I had seen enough porn to have a vague idea what to do. I began to thrust back and forth–the feeling was unfamiliar and exhilarating. Such a different texture- so smooth and soft. Isabella moved her breasts back and forth on me to accentuate my pleasure.
Every now and then, when the moisture would get used up, she paused and spit on my cock again. I allowed myself to get as close to cumming as I could without losing control, and then I decreased the speed of my thrusting to recover. I only allowed myself to do it three times, conscious that Isabella, though a remarkably good sport as always, might tire of this rhythm. As I backed myself off from the third approach to the precipice, Isabella took her hands away and let her breasts fall and sat up, bringing her mouth to mine in istanbul travestileri a warm, wet kiss. She drew back and gazed at me. “I want you inside of me,” she said in a low voice.
I changed position so that I could enter her, missionary-style. She was very wet–the tit-fucking had been a turn on for her, too. I slid into her with ease, and I was aware of the faint smell of pee mixed with arousal. The smell was intoxicating. Our bodies rocked back and forth in rhythm. She pushed her hips forward and drove me deeper into her, her vagina squeezing me with each thrust. As we moved faster and faster, she threw her arms around my waist, guiding my rhythm. Our breathing hastened and became erratic, and she barely managed to whisper “I’m gonna cum…” with her eyes squeezed shut a few seconds before she careened over the peak of her orgasm and was rendered nonverbal. I thrust deeply into her, delighted at the feeling of her pussy contracting around me. I resumed thrusting as Isabella continued to moan ecstatically. Her orgasm was getting me off, too. As I fucked her faster, I felt the pleasant warmness spreading across my groin–the familiar sensation of my approaching climax.
“Izzy, I’m gonna cum soon,” I warned.
“Do it inside me,” she said through uneven breaths. I was a little bit shocked.
“Are you…” I began.
“It’s okay, I’m on the pill,” she assured me. “Do it, cum inside me.” Her breathing was getting faster along with my thrusts, and as I reached the point of no return it sounded like she was panting “Please, please…”
I felt my orgasm beginning, and I thrust my cock inside of her as deeply as I could, bearing down. I spurted deep within her, crying out in ecstasy. I felt wave after wave of pleasure, shooting what felt, to me, like gallons inside of her. Time seemed to stand still. I felt as if all of the sound had been sucked out of the room. I squeezed my eyes shut and experienced utter blackness, a stillness like I was in the eye of a hurricane.
I came out of my reverie after what may have been seconds or centuries, pulled out slowly, winced as my rather sensitive head slid past her labia, and collapsed on the bed next to her, draping my arm over her. “Holy shit…holy shit…” I said between huffing breaths.
She was also catching her breath. “Good thing I put down that towel,” she sighed. My semen was leaking out of her. She reached over to her bedside table, grabbed a tissue, and unselfconsciously wiped herself, tossing the used tissue into her wastebasket in a single motion.
“That was incredible,” I said. It was all the language I could manage at the moment, although I wanted to say more. It felt as if she had unlocked a new level of orgasm.
“I’ve always wanted to try that,” Isabella said.
“Which thing?” I asked, laughing a little teasingly.
“Ha. All of it. I’ve always wanted for someone to fuck my tits…I mean, they’re perfect for it. But I’ve never really known how to ask, you know? Believe it or not, there aren’t a lot of titty-fucking scenes in Nora Roberts novels.” This last was a guilty-pleasure romance author she was frequently caught enjoying.
“I’ve been on the pill since High School,” she continued, “mostly to regulate my period.
But I’ve never let anybody cum in me. That just seemed more…intimate…than I was comfortable with.” The admission hung in the air for a moment between us. Isabella cleared her throat and went on.
“As for the other thing, well, that was all Ellie,” Isabella said.
“The other thing?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Isabella said. “The…pee, masturbation…pissturbation!” We both laughed.
She turned from her back to her side to face me. Our noses were just a few inches apart. She started to tell me the story, of how she and Ellie had been drunk, hanging out in the kitchen, travesti istanbul having a girls’ night.
“You were in Newton,” Isabella said when I looked at her questioningly, and I remembered. I had been visiting my relatives in a neighboring town. While I was out for the night, Isabella and Ellie were having more fun than I had imagined, apparently. This had been before the three of us had begun our hottest summer ever. We were just roommates then. “Anyway, we were getting drunk. So I kept getting up to go pee, but Ellie never did. After I had been to the bathroom like, three time, I finally asked her why she had such a bladder of steel. She said that sometimes she liked holding it in until she practically wet herself. She said it could be a huge turn on, feeling that urgent need to go followed by the relief of finally peeing. We started talking about something else, but I was distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ellie’s bladder filling up, and I liked the thought that she was just getting more and more turned on while it was happening.
“After another drink she was visibly squirming in her chair. Then, she told me that she likes to masturbate while she has to pee, and that she likes to finally lets go when she has an orgasm and it makes it more intense. And then, well, I don’t know what got into me, exactly. Besides a couple of rum and cokes. But…I told her I wanted to watch. I don’t know, in that moment it didn’t seem that strange a request–you know how she likes to pee with the door open all the time.
“So we went to the bathroom. I sat down on the edge of the tub, and Ellie sat on the toilet with the lid up. She had nothing on except panties and a tank top. She said she was really desperate to pee and also really horny, so she would probably cum really fast. She put her hands in her panties and started touching herself. I don’t know why, but it seemed so natural at the time for me to be watching her. I think somehow I convinced myself that it wasn’t sexual, like I was just doing anthropological research or something. I couldn’t believe how openly she was touching herself in front of me–honestly, I thought she forgot that I was there. She was rubbing her clit through her panties, and massaging her tits through her shirt with the other hand. Then she said ‘Oh God, I’m peeing. Holy fuck…I’m peeing and cumming’ and I heard the pee splashing in the toilet–she was peeing right through her panties!. I’d never seen anyone deliberately wet themselves before- I was flabbergasted. The whole time she was peeing she kept rubbing herself. She peed for, like, a full minute, maybe longer. And I think she was cumming the entire time.
“Then she took her panties off and washed them out in the sink–I remember her standing there with her back to me, and I couldn’t stop staring at that perfect little butt of hers.” Isabella looked at me and we both smiled. We both had a thing for Ellie’s rear end. “She wrung them out and tossed them in the hamper. After she put on dry panties, we had a few more drinks. Then I told her I was tired, and we said goodnight. But actually, I was so turned on that I needed to go to my room and get myself off. Ever since then I’ve been wanting to do like Ellie did- I’d try to hold my pee until I felt like I was going to wet myself. But it’s actually hard to time it just right. I tried holding a few times at work, actually, but then I’d get afraid I wouldn’t make it home and I’d give in and go to the bathroom.”
“Until today,” I grinned.
Isabella beamed. “I was kind of hoping one of you would walk in on me.”
“Sounds like I should try it too,” I said.
“Only if I can watch,” Isabella said, snuggling into the crook of my arm. We fell asleep that way and napped until we were awakened by Ellie coming through the front door. When she found us in bed together she looked pleased. Proud, almost.
“I hope you two aren’t TOO tuckered out,” Ellie said brightly. “I have some ideas for tonight.” She raised her eyebrows and walked out of Isabella’s bedroom. We could scarcely guess at what kind of Ellie Master Plan was being set in motion, but we were pretty sure it would be fun.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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