Rate by The Naughty Meter
Naughty level to be set later
Categories: S-M / Domination / submissive
Fulfillment: I will tell you later
Nature: I will tell you later
Again, you feel soft, warm lips pressed to yours; you part your lips and hungrily slide your tongue into his waiting mouth. You feel him pull away an inch or two, so that his lips no longer touch yours. For several seconds he stays there, your tongue sliding over his in mid air, the two slippery, wet organs the only contact between your bodies. He pulls away a little further, breaking contact with you altogether. You lie there, straining at your bonds, your head as high off the bed as you can reach, your tongue flailing in the air, trying to find something – anything – to lick, taste, pleasure and draw into your mouth. For a moment you make contact again; his tongue sliding over yours, darting into your mouth, licking your lips, tasting your mouth, inviting you… but never quite turning this battle of tongues into a fully matured kiss.
The combined exhilaration and frustration of this battle of wills being fought with tongues had taken your entire consciousness; so focused were you on what was going on in your mouth that you barely noticed your left nipple was being tweaked, caressed and teased. But now you had discovered what was going on, you could think of little else. The kissing was mere distraction now as you succumbed to the sensations rushing through your upper body. Such expert fingers, so soft, so smooth, stroking, squeezing, flicking and teasing your nipple that was now so erect you were sure it must have been half an inch long at least. You have never known fingers feel like this… so soft… so tender. What was he doing? How did he create such exquisite sensations with his fingers? It felt almost like your nipple was being licked; that was it – it felt like a tongue not a finger at all.
Slowly the truth dawned on you… it was a tongue on your nipple. And it was definitely a tongue in your mouth. There was more than one of them. Oh, what heaven to have two men (or maybe more than two… you couldn’t see to count) devoting themselves to pleasuring you. As if they had realised you had guessed their secret, the kisser broke away again and joined his colleague at your breast. Now you could definitely feel two expert tongues hard at work on you: one on each nipple, competing with each other to see who could turn you on the most.
You were longing to be freed from the silken ropes that held you so gently, yet so firmly, to the bed; longing to use your hands to explore the bodies of these men who were so expertly exploring yours; longing to run your tongue wherever they would let you; longing to see them, touch them, taste them, swallow them and return the ecstatic pleasures they were lavishing so freely on you. But you could not. Somehow you knew the time would come when you would be freed to do whatever you desired, but that moment had not yet arrived, and you must continue to submit to their touch for a while longer.
The mouth at your left breast began to move now: slowly he traced a line with his tongue away from your nipple, into the valley between your two full breasts. Meanwhile the one at your right breast drew away from your skin – to return soon, you hoped, but your attention was gripped by the progress of the other, moving gradually down your body now, tracing the line he had only recently described with the point of his knife, pausing to flick at your belly button, eliciting another deep moan from your lips as you licked them. To your delight, as your tongue flicked over your dry lips it met once again with another tongue, and for the briefest moment you kissed deeply and hungrily, before, once again, your pleasure was cut short as he pulled away.
For the second time in ten minutes you were lying there, your head raised from the bed, with your tongue trashing the air outside your open mouth, frantically searching for something, someone, to lick and to kiss.
All the while the tongue on your belly was making its unstoppable journey downwards; it had passed the point at which it would have met your hair, had you not shaved yourself smooth, and was flicking over your skin, savouring your taste and delaying the inevitable moment when it would reach the place you wanted it most: the moment when that hot tongue would, at last, slide between your swollen, dripping lips and penetrate you; you were longing for that moment as you had never longed for anything before, but for all your longing, the moment seemed still too far off.
At last your own tongue found flesh. Just a touch initially: a flick across something unidentifiable. Was it his tongue, or his lip, or his nose, perhaps? You reached once more, and found your mark again. It was not a nose: the shape was wrong, it must be one of his lips, but he had pulled back. Again you found it; again your tongue flicked across it; again you felt the soft, warm moistness of another person’s mouth. You reached yet further until you felt your tongue must surely detach itself from the back of your mouth, and your efforts were rewarded: this time you definitely identified two lips, and with a great effort, straining against your ropes, you reached forward and thrust your tongue between them.
It was not a mouth. The lips you had found were the gateway to a different cavity altogether: though you still could see nothing, you were in no doubt that this was a woman straddled across you and that you had been darting your hot tongue in and out of her sweet hole, shaved as smooth as your own, and almost as wet. You stopped, shocked, and yet hugely excited. There was a long pause while you wondered what to do, during which none of you moved a muscle. The future of this whole adventure hung in the balance: would you reject her or accept her?
At last, the spell was broken, and for the first time you heard a sound: a most delicious and erotic sound. It was the sound a woman makes when she feels a tongue shoot deep and hard inside her and start to lick her from the inside out. You had made your decision and thrust your tongue deeper inside her than you thought possible, and were rewarded by the feel of her sweet, sticky juice pouring out of her and dripping off your chin onto your chest. As if to thank you for making this decision, the other tongue – the one at work on your body – finally found the spot it had been heading for. At the exact moment your tongue plunged into the stranger’s sex you felt yourself being impaled on the longest, firmest and smoothest tongue you had ever had inside you. The more you drank her juice, the more your own nectar poured out of you, only to be lapped up hungrily by the second of your two anonymous lovers.