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Jill Redyforit

With A Little Lust

Chapter 1

All cunts are not identical! The joker who coined that old cliche 'all cats are grey in the dark' either had extremely limited experience with pussy or simply wasn't a dedicated pussymuncher. Anyway, all cunts possess both individual and general characteristics which distinguish them from one another.

They can be loosely categorized into several groups: thin-lipped, full-lipped, loose-lipped; small, medium, and large; boldly wanton, pristine, succulent and darkly sensual; dry, juicy, very juicy; ruby red, hot pink, and, of course, black. Those general differences, along with the great range of muscular control capabilities, variety of clitoris sizes and nuances of smell, combine to make for great variation in cunts. The one I was eating was a beaut! Couched beneath a softly rounded mons veneris, shrouded by thick, golden curls of crisp pubic hair, its firm, rubbery labia majora were firm, full and distended to a turgid state by desire. And the ripe velvety thighs and soft, lush ass cheeks surrounding its perfectly symmetrical shape would have made a teenaged girl athlete green with envy.

As my knowing tongue explored the hot, quivering folds of slick wet cunt meat a musky scent filled my nose and made my cock tingle more sharply. I savored the musk and hot thick cunt honey, then redoubled my efforts. With long, tantalizing strokes I licked up and down the bright pink clitoral shaft, sucking and kissing it with relish.

Watching her face through the golden tuft on her rolling, heaving mons, I saw those large, luminous grey eyes clench tightly. Just the bare tip of her pink tongue rolled around the soft, fullness of her sensual lips. She gasped her delight in a slurred, husky voice.

"Oh, Jack! Jack! I never dreamed it would be so… ohhh God. Yes… OH YES DARLING… AHH… NO… don't stop… God, don't stop… you're driving me… OOHHH… GOD!"

Her long, supple fingers clutched my head and grabbed my thick, curly hair, pushing and grinding my mouth harder against her bucking cunt A small ripple of building sensuality caused her to jerk and writhe more violently.

My hands cupped each lush, firm ass cheek and my fingers clutching and kneading them as I sucked and licked. Her mons began to pound and smack against my nose as her lust increased the urgency of her movements. Gliding my tongue down the pulsing, slick shaft, I found the juicesoaked tip of her hard, pulsing clitoris. I ran the tip of my tongue under and around the throbbing bauble several times, felt her gasp sharply, then flicked it rapidly with a long series of sharp, darting stabs.

I felt the orifice of her cunt hole squeeze closed against my lower lip, and her pelvis leapt upward as she arched her back to the spasm of sensual, searing sensation of her building orgasm. I quickly plunged the full length of my educated tongue into the hot, convulsing vortex of her dilating cunt hole and twisted it very rapidly from side to side.

Her hoarse moans turned to cries and then to shrieks of lustful delight as she rocketed upward on the thrust of her powerful orgasm.

"Oh God! Jack! OhHH… goddamn! Suck… suck… eat me! OHHHH… YEEESSS!"

In her frenzy she locked her full, powerful thighs around my head and squeezed. They felt like a velvet vise, and her thigh muscles rippled like a python. I thought I would suffocate. Her full hot labia literally enclosed my face and my chin nearly penetrated the orifice of her anus. Luckily, I could hold my breath for a while because she didn't release me until about two minutes had passed. I really didn't care because I knew it was probably the only full clitoral and vaginal orgasm she had ever experienced.

I disengaged myself from her legs, pulled her alongside me and laid her lolling head on my shoulder. Her lustrous, golden hair covered my chest like a silken mantle. She was still trembling from the slowly subsiding sensation of that wrenching orgasm. To my surprise she was also sobbing.

"Hey. Now, c'mon…why the waterworks?" I knew I hadn't inflicted any pain, so I figured the tears were strictly emotion; hopefully healthy.

"Oh Jack, darling, you have no idea… I mean… my God, the sensations… I feel like… oh, I don't know how to explain it. I've simply never experienced such… such…"

"Lust!" I exclaimed. "Don't be afraid of the word, or the sensation. You couldn't feel it if your body and mind weren't built for it. Remember that, you funky cunt."

"Funky cunt," she murmured, "I like the sound. It kind of describes my feeling right now. And to think I used to cringe at such words. God, you must think I'm a dumb, dumb female."

"No, Janet baby, just inhibited," I chuckled, "but you're losing 'em real fast. I told you it would happen… if you gritted your teeth and opened your lovely legs."

"Yes, master,'* she giggled playfully, then bounced off the bed. "Now I'm sweaty, sticky, and it's time to make my 'funky cunt' all new and fresh."

As she moved toward the bathroom she moved her full, meaty buttocks with deliberate cock-hardening sensuality. Her full ripe ass cheeks fell and bunched in rolling rhythm, grinding lasciviously against each other with incestuous lust.

She paused at the door, turned, closed her right hand over her snatch, clutched one of her proud, full tits with her left and gazed at me with a truly bold, searching look "You're right-you. know;-I am a cunt! A lewd, immoral, wanton, cunt. Furthermore, I love it."

"You ain't seen nothin* yet, cunt. Now wash it!"

As I listened to the shower and savored a cigarttte, I amused myself by trying to imagine what Janet's husband would think and how he'd react when she gave him his Christmas present next month-a new, remodeled wife. And what a wife. The poor bastard would either die from her demands, or retire, cash in his millions and fuck himself to death.

Three weeks ago his wife had been well-known for prissy but elegant tea parties, quiet refinement, polished graciousness and timid endurement of his sporadic lunges into her quiescent flesh, with his million-dollar cock. Half of the time the vapid, obscenely wealthy social set cooed and admired Walter P. Judson's magnificently cultured wife and perfect hostess. The other half they spent indulging themselves in false sympathy as she endured the embarrassment of a never-ending series of discreet affairs in which Walter indulged himself. Until a short time ago it hadn't bothered her very much. Walter always broke off cleanly with his little playmates and resumed his husband role.

She was honest with herself and accepted most of the blame. Walter was a virile, sensual man. Unfortunately she had always abhorred sex and couldn't bring herself to pretend after the first week of marriage. She simply couldn't meet Walter's needs and it certainly wasn't his fault.

Several months ago Walter had involved himself once more, but this time his playmate was a shrewd, clever cunt who knew her man. Furthermore, she didn't plan to have it end as 'just another affair.' She was making rapid progress at persuading Walter he needed a fulltime whore with a wedding ring on her left hand. Janet had been apprised of this by Walter. Instead of bursting into tears she had wisely and calmly persuaded him to agree to a short separation, to be followed by another short reconciliation in the form of a cruise to the south seas. Upon their return, if he still desired a divorce, she assured him a quick, quiet action. He agreed, much to the chagrin of his paramour.

That's when she had sought out the Sherman Foundation for help. For three weeks she had been my charge, project, job… whatever. She was such a wonderful gal, I'd made up my mind to turn out a miracle. If Walter asked her for a divorce after I finished, he would either be insane, gay, or both.

"Well," a soft voice murmured, "what does my dirty old man have in mind next?"

I could hardly believe that Janet Judson who arrived at my apartment three weeks ago was even distantly related to the naked, wanton sexpot framed in the bathroom doorway. The other Janet had worn her golden hair in a cold, sculptured hairdo high on top of her regal head. Her prim, cool mannerisms matched the starkly tailored suit. Her pristine hips had been firmly encased in a girdle, preventing the slightest hint of butt movement, or curves. I merely assumed she had breasts, in spite of the suit top, which was carefully designed to hide any indication of them.

     

 

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