Pixie Pt. 01 Ch. 11: With Sarah

I settled myself on the sofa in Sarah's room. I was beginning to wonder why I had booked a room for myself? Thus far I had not spent either of the two nights I had been at the hotel in it. I reflected that it was as well that Anne had taken a suite, as she would need a large bed to accommodate her, Emily and my friend Emm. I wondered what they were doing? Emm was no doubt on her knees tasting their delights, but I could not help wonder about the idea of training Emm. She was headstrong, rich, and confident, and whilst she had expressed an interest in being totally submissive, I did wonder how that desire would survive contact with the reality?

Even as I was pondering such erotic dilemmas, my attention was caught by Sarah. I had admired her presenting style for years, and it had been a thrill to finally meet her. Finding her in flagrante delicto with Emm had shown me not only more of her than I thought I would ever see. It had also told me that she was a lesbian. She had been interested enough in me to bring me back to her room, which was an unexpected delight. But I did wonder what would have happened had Emm been available?

Sarah had taken advantage of the bathroom to remove her top and her skirt, revealing her beautiful pert breasts (34B was my guess), and, jutting out from her loins, a purple feeldoe. Her nipples were engorged, turning slightly upward, their tips delightfully full. If I did not actually lick my lips, I did so metaphorically. There was not much metaphorical about what was sticking out and coming toward me. Instinct took over, and I dropped to my knees.

She smiled.

'I knew you were a good girl Pixie. I want your sweet little body. Suck my girl cock darling, I want it nice and wet before I fuck you hard with it.'

That's the thing about radio presenters, they have such a way with words: economical, to the point, and when necessary, graphic. I looked up, and smiled.

'Seems as good a reason as a girl could want to suck a cock.'

With that, I opened my mouth, taking as much of the tip of the girth of the purple girl cock into me. My lips wrapped round it, and I looked up at her as I began to circle it with my tongue. My mouth sucked on the tip, and I slid it further in, lashing it with my tongue. I grabbed her ass to gain extra leverage. Her ass cheeks were wonderfully firm and soft at the same time. I loved the way it felt as my hands kneaded it; it moved in the most delightful way under my grip. I slid my finger down her ass-crack. She moaned.

I am not the greatest fan of cocks; I have to admit. I have never quite understood why so many of my fellow lesbians seem to need them; maybe it is just what they usually come attached to that some women dislike? For me, it is the softness of another woman's skin, the sweetness of her taste, and the desire to see how she differs from me, but what we have in common, which governs my passion. But if Sarah was excited by the thought of my sucking her cock, then I would go to it with enthusiasm, and a lot of noise. That seemed to do it.

She moaned as my tongue made slurping sounds as it lashed around the plastic cock.

I sucked hard, again, ensuring that I made as much noise as possible. I gripped her bum. My goodness, it was such a peach of a bottom, and my hands caressed and squeezed it. I was seized with the desire to bury my face into it. But Sarah had other ideas.

One of the delights of being so petite, is that if I get lucky, my lover will realise, in her passion, that she can physically lift me, and this moment of epiphany had arrived for Sarah. I felt her hands go under my arms, and then the thrill of her lifting me up, carrying me to the bed and depositing me on it. As she came to the bed, my thumbs slipped into the waistband of my panties, pulling them off. My legs went up and open, wanting her to have the fullest access to me. She obliged.

The wanton act of opening myself in such a lewd manner to her meant she needed no further lubrication to access the heart of my wetness. As she lay upon me, holding herself up with her elbows as she kissed me, her breasts pressed into mine, our taut nipples rubbing together, as she entered me. I moaned, loudly. As she pressed in, deeper, my pussy felt stretched, and full, she was almost hitting my cervix. My legs wrapped round her as far as that was possible, and I lay back and let myself be taken.

Sarah was a vigorous lover. Her hands gripped my bum, making me angle myself where her girl cock could achieve maximum penetration. One of the disadvantages of my size was that other parts of me were equally diminutive, and to be honest, there was a limit to what I could take by way of cock, but she seemed to know, intuitively, how to fill me. I groaned at the sense of being plugged by her. I could feel my rosebud being lubricated by the excess my pussy was generating.

It was part of her skill as a lover that her fingers followed my flow, skilfully probing me there, slowly opening me up, allowing my own pussy juice to make me wet enough for her fingers to penetrate. This was not a normal part of my love-play, and it was a sign of how aroused I was that all I did was to press back onto her questing finger, roaming and grunting.

As she pushed and pressed and I moaned, there came to me the sense that she was also quite near. The tightness of my pussy was rubbing the bulb against her pussy walls and causing her to moan in time with me. I felt her thighs begin to stiffen, even as I felt my own grow taut. Then the world exploded.

I had never believed the parallel, often used by writers, of fireworks going off as a way of expressing how an orgasm feels; but at that moment I discovered its truth. As Sarah's juices mingled with mine, and her finger teased my ass, my own pussy clenched the feeldoe, and I gripped it like I never wanted to let go. That triggered her even more, and she shouted 'fuck' into my mouth, as she came, wave after wave passing through her. In turn, that set me off, and a tsunami of wetness and lust overwhelmed us both. If we were lost out in night's vast ocean, it was together on the last life-raft. We floated into the morning hours together, bound by something so deep and primal that it would mark us forever.