Thirst Ch. 03

"Now, how about if you sit down Ms. Fotnaine, and let me see what I can do, eh?" she said, playful again, her hands still around my hips, gently pushing me towards the bed.

"Indeed. How about you show me something new, eh?" I teased her back as I sat on the edge of the bed while she knelt on the floor.

Sylvie gathered both my feet into her lap, caressing my calves and feet tenderly, her gaze directed at my toes. Sighing I leaned back on my elbows. I felt the thatch of her pubis on the sole of my left foot. Her fingers gently stroked all around my ankles and she started squeezing and kneading the flesh of my calves and I melted into it, feeling relaxed and tense all at the same time. She lifted my other foot with both hands, and I opened my eyes, in time to see her lower her head and kiss each toe and take it in, wetting it in her mouth. She must have felt me shiver. She looked up at me and smiled, pleased at my reaction.

She took the pinky toe into her mouth, sucking it, swirling her tongue around it and sliding it into the gap between the toes. I was losing control under these caresses that I had not experienced before. My left foot dug into her lap and she parted her thighs until her moist, warm labial lips rubbed against my sole. I gently rubbed my foot up and down against the soft, silky, lubricated opening. Her hips ground gently against my left foot, bathing it in her sticky juices. Her lips slithered along the toes of the foot she was holding, anointing each with kisses, licks, leaving them wet.

Replacing the foot in her hand with the one that was in her lap, she lifted my other foot her to her mouth, licking the sticky sole, tasting herself. I plowed the sole of the foot that was now in her lap, until it too was coated with the honey from her horn of plenty. Lifting it off her lap, I sat up and bent the freshly coated leg up. Running my forefinger along the sole, I gathered her juices and brought it to my lips. The smell, musky and fresh, was intoxicating and I was so pleased to taste it finally. The creamy texture and slightly salty flavor melted like butter in my mouth. Sylvie, who was looking on apprehensively at first, softened once she heard my delighted moan. She watched me lick up every drop of her creamy offering until I had removed all the juices and only the aroma of her lingered in my nostrils and mouth.

"Delicious and so yummy, Sylvie. What's the recipe for this rich concoction, then, eh?" I said, lowering my foot to the floor again.

"Hmm, good wine perhaps?" she smiled shyly, and then declared, eyes glazed with lust, "I want to taste your honey too, Sheila. Please?"

I sat up, and as Sylvie came to her knees, I took her face in my hands and kissed her lips and drank from her. When I squeezed her earlobes against my fingers, she moaned appreciatively. The comfort and ease I felt with her and the aggressiveness with which I was mauling her soft body was truly amazing.

"Mmm… Yes, Sylvie. Eat me. Lick me. I want you to make love to my quim with your tongue," I encouraged her, my voice as laden with wanton, eager lust as hers.

"Quim, quim, quim…" Sylvie repeated the word as if savoring it, "I love the sound of it - so lush and wet. Do you mind sitting on the chaise Ms Fontaine? It'd be easier on your back than leaning back on the bed. I'm dying to pleasure you for a long, long time…"

I sat on the chaise next to the sofa and Sylvie knelt in front. Her hungry mouth clamped on each of my breast in turn, taking the nipple into her soft mouth and suckling on them as I held her head caressing her soft flowing silky hair.

"Ooooh… yes, suck them baby," I mumbled in her ears, holding her head to my breast and encouraging her to suckle.

Tingling streams of pleasure radiated from my nipples, through my torso and belly, right in to my already aroused, tense clit. She pushed me back gently until I was semi reclined on the cushion. Her lips wandered down my midriff and when her tongue entered the hollow of my navel, I trembled, unable to rein in the anticipation of her touch further down. She pushed my feet up from the floor until the soles were on the edge of the chair, my thighs split in a V, and my cunny offered up to her eager mouth like a flower full of honey welcoming a hungry bee.

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Sylvie's tongue moved slowly and methodically, licking and tasting every inch of my belly, progressing steadily downwards. She licked her way all around my quim, up each thigh, planting wet kisses on every inch of the supersensitive skin of my tenderloin. I could feel the juices gushing out of my quim, coating the labia, dripping downward. She alternated between my left and right inner thighs with her lips and tongue, her fingers stroking and caressing the sides of my thighs.

Her first quick, wet swipe on my clit drowned me in tremulous pleasure. Her tongue started moved up and down the crease of my quim – riding over the sensitive, overexcited wet lips like a plough grazing the furrow without penetrating it. Her moans of appreciation reassured me that she liked my cunny juices as much as I did hers. Sylvie's fingers spread the lips, allowing her tongue to penetrate that spongy, moist crevasse. Her raspy groans reverberating into my depths while my hands alternately clawed the arm rests and Sylvie's head. My thighs twitched and swung about like storm tossed sails of competing boats, unable to withstand the sensations. Sensing me climbing, Sylvie's tongue joined the attack on my tormented cunny, lips sucking on labia, alternating with tongue thrusting into my quim. My body began to tremble ahead of the orgasm building up. As if on cue, her mouth moved up, her tongue lashing at the stiff hood that struggled to hold back the erect clit within, driving a million flashes of pleasure pangs that radiated up my belly. My fingers pinched and pulled on my nipples, compounding the relentless, sweet torture of Sylvie's tongue and lips on the mons.

The orgasm seemed to erupt deep in my womb, rushing out in shock waves up and down my body, my muscles in spasms as the flesh trembling helplessly. I succumbed to the feverish tune her lips and tongue were plucking out on my sex. An unearthly, drawn out low moan - which was all mine - reverberated through the room and I felt emptied of my being, as a series of never ending explosion of diminishing intensity wrung me out, leaving me dizzy. The intensity of the released arched my back and I slid helplessly forward on the seat. It felt like a happy grand mort, leave alone the petit mort.

In the aftermath, while I recovered from the tremulous collapse, Sylvie started running her tongue, flattened, over my now sensitive quim gently, as if calming the now quivering flesh. My hands and. legs went limp, and my body quivered for I don't know how long. When I finally opened my eyes, Sylvie was sitting back on her hands, watching me, licking her lips, her face and cheeks glistening with my juices and her eyes shining like a cat's at night. I remember an ecstatic voice in my mind intoning that this was not a dream, not a dream, not a dream…

Bim, I can't explain the gratitude and love I felt for her at that moment. She was so gentle and giving – an angel who had turned an occasional fantasy into an explosive reality and had captured my heart in the process.

"Oh… Sylvie… thank you darling, my sweetest…. Tha was so incredible," I struggled with trite banalities, my voice still weak from the tsunami that had swept by.

"Oh, no, Ms. Fontaine. I'm the one who must thank you for the most delicious, yummiest finger licking good experience," she smiled, and then lowered her head to my quim, which lay unabashedly, wantonly open to her, and took a deep breath, "And your wonderful musk – it's just so heady and inviting! I can spend the rest of my life worshipping your pussy."

Her fingers gently and soothingly caressed my thighs. I felt as if I were a limp rag doll, my hips pushed up over the edge of the chair, legs bent, splayed, and spread upwards towards my chest.

"Oh, what do we have here?" Sylvie cooed, her fingers trailing down, carefully skirting my still sensitive mound and the exhausted petals on it, sliding further down.

"So cute! Mmm… My oh my!" She exclaimed excitedly as her finger started tracing circles around my pucker.

The pad of her finger circled and then rested on the center of that tight, taboo orifice. But, then, the old sanctions and repressions came rushing out, and I panicked, hesitant and reluctant to let her proceed further, all in a moment.

"Sylvie… You mustn't... No…" I stuttered, grabbing her shoulders, and she pulled her hands back, looking up at me bewildered.

"Don't you like being touched there? You have a beautiful rosebud, Sheila," she pleaded in a wounded tone, her anticipation of a moment ago replaced with doubt and anxiety.

I remained silent, not knowing how to reassure her. I was confused and at a loss for words. At the same time, I `didn't want her to feel that she was responsible for how I reacted – after all, my inhibitions were my cross to carry, not hers. After the wonderful experience we've just had, it was not fair to subject her to this sort of torment. She waited, with her hands in her lap, one on top of the other, her eyes searching my face for reassurance.

"No… it's not that sweetie. I don't know… well I'm not… you know… I don't feel clean," I said, struggling to come up with a plausible excuse to get her past her disappointment.

"Oh?" Sylvie sounded doubtful, "But, you told me that you had taken a shower before you came down for the presentation."

"Yes, I did, but I don't know… I… I…" I began to fear that I'd become further entangled in lies built upon lies and decided to come clean, "Oh, God, Sylvie. I just don't feel comfortable about anal play."

"But why?" she asked, and, then with a resigned sigh added, "I'm sorry Sheila. If you don't like it, I won't do it again."

The disappointment in her voice struck me hard. I felt as awful for hurting her as she seemed to feel for having offended me. I wanted to accept with the same generosity of heart and loving spirit the pleasures she offered up to me. And I certainly didn't want our first evening to end on a sour note, with Sylvie thinking I was disgusted with her. I didn't want to hurt her, but I couldn't get over my negative feelings and apprehension towards what she wanted to do to me. The only way out seemed to face the rift between us head on and as honestly as I could.

"Sweetheart, please," I said, sitting up in the chair, my feet back on the floor, and patted my lap, "come up and sit here."

Sylvie got up and sat on my lap, with my arms around her. I hugged her as my mind struggled for a sensible way to lift the mood. Sylvie instinctively pulled my head into the crook of her neck, running her hand through my hair. I rocked her gently while she held and caressed me. In that nurturing mutual embrace, the truth of it all came out of without effort.

"You know, I'd like to think that I'm open minded and adventurous when it comes to experimenting, but I've always been uncomfortable with anal play. In fact, I've tried it only once before," I sighed and continued, my head still buried in her shoulder, "You seem to be much more at ease with it than I am. Please understand Sylvie, I really love the way we are coming together. I certainly hope I don't lose you. Please be patient with me."

"Oh, Sheila, it's okay, I don't mind. I too was uncomfortable with it initially," Sylvie said softly, still stroking my hair, and added "When you tried it before – was it with Bim?"

I nodded into her neck as she ran her fingers through my hair, caressing and comforting me. I became aware of the dampness of her essence leaking on my thighs. She was flowing freely and the aroma of her arousal intoxicated my senses.

"I will respect your wishes Sheila. I feel an extraordinary connection with you. I sensed that when we shook hands after the presentation. You can tell me whatever you want to tell me, if and when you're comfortable. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine too. I simply want to understand what you like and don't. That's all," she reassured me, adding, "And thanks for trusting me and being so honest with me."

I could only marvel at her maturity and ability to empathize. Bim, I can't express now my feelings for Sylvie as we sat there, holding on to each other, not wanting to let go for fear of losing each other. It took a while before the lump in my throat dissolved.

"Well, sweetie, perhaps it was my upbringing. Strict, religious minded parents who repressed anything sensual you see. Trying it with Bim was a struggle. But I still feel as if it's… not quite right. I do want to try it but there's an internal block."

"Is it simply that you feel you're unclean?" she whispered in my ear, and then added, "If it's just that - a matter of hygiene - I can help you."

I stayed silent, not being able to put my finger on why it was bothering me. My logical brain knew that my anus was a pleasure point anatomically. Besides, I had moved to a stage where I had tried it before. Perhaps it was hygiene.

"How do you mean? What can I do?" I said, raising my head to look in to her eyes.

"Oh. Well…." She put her head back into the crook of my neck with a sigh, "I can help you with an enema – you'll feel squeaky clean after that. But, only if you want to do it."

"You will?" I responded, shocked by her offer, but also touched.

You and I had discussed enemas Bim, and even though I had taken it a couple of times, I was flabbergasted that Sylvie was willing to administer it, just to make me feel comfortable. It was so generous on her part to offer to do something that I considered 'dirty.'

"Sure, if it will make you feel more comfortable, I most certainly will. Besides, I take it myself. I do want to please you, worship you, and making you comfortable, then…," her voice trailed off as she rubbed her cheek against mine.

"Thank you Sylvie. Thanks so much," I kissed her, "You amaze me. You're so kind to me. But, give me some time. All this discomfort may be something else – maybe it's all in my mind."

"Sure Sheila, I too felt hesitant about anal play when I started, but, over time I've grown to love it," she said, reassured, "I don't think our derriere is 'dirty' as our culture and society would have us believe. With proper hygiene, it's cleaner than our mouth, which, incidentally, has more bacteria in it than we care to know."

"Oh, yes, I've heard that sweetie. And I do know it is pleasurable – it's not that I don't feel the pleasure," I sighed, "I just don't know why I'm so uptight about it."

I laughed at the unintended double entendre, and felt her giggle against me. Despite the unusual and strong attraction and level of comfort I felt with Sylvie, the truth was that I barely knew her and was perhaps not ready for what she wanted. Of course, my limited experience was also a factor. On the other hand, having always thought that it was more of a male obsession, I was surprised to encounter such a strong desire for it from a woman, and one as classy and young as Sylvie at that. That observation alone began to break down the resistance I felt towards it.

"We'll take it up next time and I'll be prepared. You know… enema and all." I giggled, feeling the blush spreading on my cheeks.

"Oh, Ms. Fontaine! I'd like that! Let me know if you'd like me to help you," Sylvie hugged and kissed me, and then whispered in my ear, "Thanks for trying to meet me half way Sheila. I was so worried that I had completely turned you off."

"Oh, shush… You are too gentle a soul to ever turn anyone off sweetheart," I said, relieved that we had worked it through, "Besides, I'm determined to not let my first and only woman lover – a submissive at that – and one who's willing to do anything I want, slip through my fingers just like that."

The wetness coating my thigh from Sylvie's flowing crevasse reminded me of her as yet unfulfilled need. I too wanted to taste her before the night was over and watch her bloom with the pleasures she had given me. Pushing her gently off my lap and towards the bed I stood up. Sitting on the bed, our tongues entwined and I savored the mixed flavor of my juices and wine on her lips and drank her saliva as if it were ambrosia. We kissed each other for a long while, alternating on sucking wetly each other's lips, biting at times, eliciting appreciative moans from each other.

As the pace of her breathing picked up, my mouth wandered down her neckline to the lovely mounds of her breasts. I feasted on each of her fleshy orbs, nibbling, kissing, and biting, alternating between each, kneading one in my hand while giving suck to the other. My fingers twirled her nipples, pinching and pulling the rubbery stiffness until she moaned. I lay down, with my head in her lap as she sat up crooning unintelligible encouragements and suckled on like a happy child, my tongue flicking delightedly at the points, now and then taking the bit between my teeth, biting down on them. Her moans and squeals comforted as much as the act of suckling her. I would've been content to have spent the whole night so, but the scent of her musk hurried me downwards to her soft stomach and navel.

Eventually, we rearranged ourselves into a soixante neuf, her prominent, smooth, wet, glistening mound in front of my hungry eyes. It was the first time I was going down on a woman, and a strong, heady hunger to nestle my head between her thighs and lap at her sex and drink her juices came over me. Both of us raised our upper leg so that we could each nestle our head on the other's thigh while our tongues delved into each other's honey pot. Resting my head on her thigh, my fingers sliding back and forth on the slick surface and raised labia, I drank in her sweet musky scent, licking my lips.

"Oh, my god, what a gorgeous pussy you have Sylvie. It's succulent and smells like a wild flower. So yummy," I mumbled into her crevice, sharing my lust for her.

"Mmmm... And I can worship your beautiful pussy all night long Ms. Fontaine," Sylvie responded, as if she didn't want to be outdone.

Feeling the warm jolt of her breath and lips upon my crease, I interlocked my lips with her labia. She tasted incredibly rich, salty and creamy, and the heavy aroma that wafted from her quim drove me wild. I lapped at the juices that had collected on her pussy lips, sucking each petal into my mouth, impervious to the lewd sounds my feeding gave rise to. Sylvie's moans joined mine as she too licked and sucked on my petals along their length. I felt her tongue part them and drive inwards, her nose crushing deep into the opening to my womb.

As I moved down from the top of her mound, dipping my tongue in to her pink opening, her beautiful, parted buns filled my sight. In the valley between the fleshy mounds, right in front of my eyes, lay her winking rosette, a dark pink volcanic depression on her pale skin, surrounded by a skirt of crinkled brown skin. I had not seen an anus up close, unobstructed and magnified and insistent right in front of my eyes - after all with the men, it's not so readily visible. Sylvie's pucker confronted me, as if demanding a resolution to my hesitation.

I was fascinated. The little star's delicate throbbing amidst the twin seemed like that of a living, breathing organic being struggling to survive. Pulling inwards at times, only to release slowly to its natural crinkly swirl, it elicited in me a certain sympathy for the first time ever. It looked so small and fragile - like a fragile bud that could succumb in the freeze of disgust - opening, convulsing, alive, and forlorn, trapped in a remote valley. I felt its vulnerability and tenderness, and, yes, even its beauty.