Tingles Eleven free porn video

TINGLES ELEVEN By Katharine Sexkitten I took a moment during the first meeting of Tuesday to zone out, focussing not on the latest marketing and operational plans for a product roll-out, but instead on the never-ending exquisite rapture of wearing panties. Words are hard to find to express just how sexy wearing panties can make me feel. Does make me feel. Every time. Every second. Soft fabric cradling my little hairless feminine cock and balls, holding them in a pillow of delectable sensations. And whether I chose a G-string that deliciously burrowed between my soft smooth milky-white ass-cheeks, or a panty that cupped my bum with lace or silk or satin, all of them made me tingle. Plus, I have learned that my panties always end up with big wet spots in them, which in and of itself is fucking sexy as hell. But I now know the pleasure of taking off wet panties, seeing the dampness of my own precum, or cum, or someone else's cum, smelling the ambrosia of those liquids, salivating at the idea of tasting them, gently licking the salty yummy goo from the gusset or shoving the entire panty in my mouth and sucking out whatever I can find. I now know how all of that makes me feel. Wonderful. Alive. Feminine, and slutty. I am Jessica Kurva. I am Jessica Slut. And I have learned that my tingles are the most important part of my life. Bar none. During the morning, I couldn't sense any tingles, other than the constant burbling fire that naturally occurs within me. So it was business that had my attention. At the morning break, I managed to find a quiet office and called my uncle, who is in the financial world. I told him what I knew, and asked if he could find out what he could about Michelle's company. And about Michelle herself. An hour later he texted me with the following: Checks out. Respected Chemist. Won some awards. Develops fragrances and perfumes now. Small numbers with limited sales but modest growth over the last few years. Then he asked me why I wanted to know. So I emailed him that I'd met the CEO, was impressed, got to test the latest product and was blown away, and how they're looking for investors of five thousand dollars or more, with the promise of significant returns. That the CEO mentioned the possibility of big growth in the near future. My uncle, being the protective sort, emailed me back and told me he'd do some more digging. Free of charge. The first meeting after the lunch break was a big one, in the largest boardroom, and had almost forty attendees. We all crammed in, and my tingles were amped up to a serious level. Brad was in the room. As was Peter. As was Angie, the woman I'd met on my way back to my room earlier this morning. I'd thought her name was Anna, or Annie, and I'm usually terrible with names, so I was close. Turns out Angie also likes to dress sexy, and was wearing a tight silk blouse, a frilly bra, and a tight mid-thigh length skirt, dark and pleated and her exercise obviously pays off because I caught a glimpse of her from behind when she walked in and her ass looked spectacular. Round and pert and moving inside her skirt when she walked. Her skirt looked like two pigs in a bag, both wriggling. It looked like sex personified. When she took her chair, across the room from me, she looked up and around at people, nodding hello occasionally as she met people's eyes. And then she saw me. A huge smile came onto her face, and she casually used her finger and pretended to wipe something off the side of her mouth. I returned the gesture and nodded. Two cum-lovers, sharing a moment. While very important people spoke, I looked around. I caught Brad's eye a few times, with that big shit-eating grin on his face that made me get hard in my panties. And I knew him well enough now to know exactly what he was thinking. That he couldn't wait to fuck me again, from behind, the way he likes it. And make no mistake, I like it too! Peter and I exchanged looks as well, several of them, and each one sent my heart racing. I got the impression he knew I was getting horny, knew what I was thinking, and it pleased him to no end. He looked happier than I'd ever seen him. And his vibes were telling me he was indeed happy, and that I was playing a big part in it. It was as if he could sense my tingles, knew they were pouring through me at breakneck speed, and happier for another person than he could ever be. You go gurl! I couldn't wait for the day to be over, so I could get out of my totally boring male clothes and begin my routines of cleaning inside and out, shaving my entire body, pampering my skin, and then slipping into lingerie. From there, who knows what awaited me? Whatever it was, I knew it would be good. By mid-afternoon my uncle had emailed me with some more info, all of which looked good, and Peter had responded to my text about Michelle with the contact info of the law firm handling the legal stuff, which I had forwarded and which my uncle used to begin discussions with right away. Late in the afternoon, he sent me an email saying it was all legit, and did I want to do the deal? My answer was a firm maybe. I said I'd do the prudent thing and consider it, sleep on it overnight, and then I'd text him in the morning one way or the other, and he said that was fine and he'd finish it up tomorrow if I wanted. Then he reminded me that if I was investing in Michelle's company, I would be putting up most of my savings account into LUST, the name of that exotic aroma that captivated me last night and early this morning. Almost at the end of the day, Peter texted me and let me know that the members of the Board were having dinner together and these kinds of meetings usually lasted well into the wee hours, so he couldn't promise to entertain me this evening. I assured him I would be fine. I went back to the hotel with a bunch of people, and a wide variety of ideas were being bandied about regarding dinner and plans and I hadn't decided on any of them. When I got back to my suite, the red light was flashing on the room phone, so I answered it, and was advised that a package had arrived for me, and someone would bring it to my door now that I was back. Curious, I thought. A package? While I was waiting I received a text from Brad. He said he was going out to dinner with a couple of other VP's, but that he would probably be back to the hotel by around nine, and he was wondering what I had planned for the evening. I replied that my plans were to pamper myself with a long soak in a bubble bath, followed by getting dressed in the most feminine and alluring of ways, and then waiting for him to come to my room to kiss me and fuck me. I could only hope that he understood my meaning, considering how vague I was being. His terse reply came a few moments later. OH BOY. A few minutes later a very light knock came on the door, and outside it stood an ugly man holding a modestly-large box. He insisted on carrying into the room for me, which I allowed because I knew there was nothing feminine showing at that moment, and then he breezed out. On top there was a card in an envelope, with the name Jessica Kurva written on the outside, in very lovely script. Someone had beautiful penmanship. Inside the envelope was a hand-written note. It said: Sweet sweet Jessica, You are delightful, and delicious, and de-lovely. I can't thank you enough for our time together last night. I saw in you, immediately, that you were the definition of sexy, the model of womanhood. Yes, new to your femininity, and yet worldly in your soul. You're a natural sexual woman, Jessica, and it is my pleasure to get to know you emotionally as well as in bed. I haven't had a good sexy time like that in far too long! You have so much ahead of you, in this journey you find yourself in. Learning this new world of sexuality, and the people who inhabit it. People like Peter, and people like me. I meant what I said about you being a perfect candidate for the Darlings. You're exactly what that world-wide group is all about. The freeing of our sensual and sexual spirits. The throwing off of imposed morality, the breaking of society's chains that foolishly holds most people down. You are femininity incarnate, Jessica. Don't undervalue just how important that is. For you, and for all the other open and enlightened souls of the world. We need you, to be the real you, the true you. The sexy feminine passionate sexual woman I met last night. I want to be your friend forever, sweet Jessica. And I hope you want to be mine. Sexual or not, we are sisters, and I hope we're always a part of each other's lives. Think about my investment opportunity too, if you'd like. But if not, there's nothing wrong with that. We're still slut sisters, and I just know that the next time I see you you'll have a Darlings ring on your finger. Inside the box are a few things I want you to have. I saw them in my travels today and they just screamed out "Jessica Kurva!", so I guessed at sizes, but I hope you'll enjoy them. I want you to have them. This is what friends do for each other, Jessica, and I know that you will be as generous with your heart and spirit with other people as well. And one day you'll be financially in a position to share with your friends in the same way I'm doing today. You're a shining star, Jessica. You're a one in a million slutty gurl! All my love, and all my LUST, Michelle I realized that I was holding her note with both hands, clutching the paper, and I was teary-eyed. Her love was touching me, bathing me with warmth inside. I felt like crying in joy and jumping up and down on the mattress in absolute glee. My emotional high, however, was brought to a swift halt. There was a knock knock knock on the door. I put the note back in the envelope and threw the envelope onto the desk by my laptop and walked to the door. I bent slightly to look out the peep-hole. Standing there was Angie, oddly shaped due to the convex curve of the glass, but still sexy as fuck. Then she knocked again. Then she spoke. "I know you're in there. You just got a delivery." So I opened the door. She stood there, smiling at me. The smile started as innocent and quickly morphed into playful and then through that into flirty and then through that into shameless joy. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" She was still in her work clothes. Still in that sexy tight blouse, still in the tight skirt. And heels, which I hadn't seen in the boardroom, but which were tan and shiny and had three or four inch heels. DAMN! This woman is sexy! Then I looked back up from her shoes, and saw those nipples again. They both just appeared, like a miniature version of whack-a-mole. Rounded, plump, and straining the fabric of her bra and her blouse. So I asked her in. Closing the door, I watched her sexy stride into the suite, throwing down her purse and laptop bag, and then heading straight for the fridge. She threw the door open, and looked inside. "Red or White?" "Red or white what?" I asked. "Wine, silly" she said, trying to sound slightly annoyed, "which do you want to drink?" I thought about my answer for a second. "I hadn't gotten as far as that yet, I guess. I just settled in a few minutes ago." She looked up at me, and her smile changed. Now it was conspiratorial. "I'm Angie." "I know," I said. "What's your name?" she asked. "And not the one you use at the office. What's your real name?" And there it was. If for whatever reason I'd been harboring even the slimmest chance that she hadn't recognized me from this morning, it was all gone now. She knew. I had no reason to lie, or deny. "Jessica. Jessica Kurva." "Kurva?" she asked, "that's not the last name in your email addy." I shook my head. "No. Kurva is Hungarian." I paused, and then decided what the hell. "It translates as slut." She laughed, loudly. Unashamedly. Unembarrassed. A throaty sexy woman's laugh. God, I wanted her laugh. "Now why don't I have any trouble believing that?" She reached in and grabbed a bottle of white wine from the fridge. Two glasses were nearby on the countertop, as was the corkscrew, and she assembled all the items and opened the wine, pouring us both a glass. Then she turned and sat herself down on one end of the sofa, and held out a glass to me that I could only get by sitting on the other end of the sofa. Like pals. Gal pals. I sat. Then she looked me in the eye, and we clinked our glasses together, and she said, "To new friends." "To new friends." We each sipped and then enjoyed the taste for a few moments. "So, Jessica the slut," she said, matter-of-factly, as if it was natural, which in my case it was, "this morning, were you coming back from a night out on the town, or from one of the rooms down the hall? You know, when I ran into you?" She waited a few tantalizing seconds. "You know, when you had that cum on your cheek?" I looked up and down my own body, over-emphasizing the scan to make her aware of how I was dressed at that moment. "A gentleman never kisses and tells." "Ha!" she laughed, taking another big sip of wine. "First off, you're no gentleman, even in those clothes. Maybe nobody else sees it, but I do. Even wearing office attire you're still a girly slut. Am I wrong?" I hesitated to answer. I'd never talked this brashly and openly with a woman before. Not a genetic one, anyway. "C'mon, girl," she said, "that's what girlfriends do, you know? They talk to each other. They talk about all their feelings, all their secrets. Men, sex, dicks, romance, bitching about other women. All that stuff. It's what we do." "We? It's what we do? And who exactly are the 'we' you speak of?" She raised one eyebrow, in a naughty conspiratorial kind of way. "Sluts," she said, "that's who we are." My tingles were thumping along pretty good now. She was definitely a sexual person, and fast becoming my newest bestest friend. "I suppose we are," I answered, taking a big gulp of wine. We sipped and looked at each other. Her nipples were huge, and she was doing absolutely nothing to hide them. "How did you, um..." I started to ask, having trouble finding the words. "How did I know that you were a guy in girls clothes?" "Yeah." "How did I know that you were a transvestite? A sissy? Or whatever name you use for it?" I thought a little seriousness was in order. "I use the name Jessica. That's all." "Oh," she said, seeming to enjoy the change of direction the conversation was going in, "so you're not a sissy? Not a tranny?" "I don't know," I said, "those are just labels, and everybody interprets them differently. To some, I suppose, a sissy is a wimp, a nobody, a weak little gurly boy, and I don't think I'm any of those things. I'm strong, in spirit and in body, and this is not about weakness to me. It's about liberation, and recognizing my true nature. I've never been stronger than when I'm Jessica. So am I a tranny? I guess I am, to be honest. But mostly," I added, pausing to find the words, "mostly I'm just Jessica. A sexual person. A sexual feminine person. I've discovered I live for dressing up. It seems to release the real me, the sexual me. There doesn't seem to be any in between at all, and to be honest, even though it's only been a few days now, I feel like I want to be Jessica full-time." She sipped her wine. "Fair enough. Anyway, how did I know? Well, at first, I thought here comes a woman, with that just-got-fucked look lit up like a neon sign, and believe me I know what that looks like cause I've done it a time or two myself, but this woman had maybe a bit too much hip swing in her walk, but still, what woman wouldn't be strutting if she just got laid big time. Then I thought, gee, I think I know that woman, or maybe I just know that face. I don't know, for some reason, my brain was telling me I recognized you, except not as a woman. So my mind was going through a whole bunch of scenarios, none of which made any sense to me." "So you thought I was a real woman? I passed?" "At first. From far away," she continued, by pointing at my head, "but then you got closer and your huge Adam's Apple is a dead giveaway. That's how I knew. And it all twigged in my head at that point. I was going to say something, like 'hey, I know you, you're that new guy on the National team." "Why didn't you?" She smiled. "Because that's when you got closest to me, and I saw the slightly amateurish make up job, and then the money shot, the big blob of cum on your face, which was also a dead giveaway." "It was? How so?" "Lesson number one. Genetic girls check for things like cum on our faces before we leave the guys place, or get out of the car. That's what mirrors are for!" I nodded, quickly. "I'm still learning how to be a woman." "So," she said, after a few moments of silence, "girlfriend of mine," with another pause, "what I can't figure out, and what I was thinking about most all day long, was who did you blow and where? Were you coming back from a night on the town? On a sexy date? That seems the most likely scenario, but I didn't hear the elevator ding as I was leaving my room, and we're on the eighth floor, which means sixteen flights of stairs, and no gurl walks that many flights of stairs unless she has to, not in the heels you were wearing, hell, not in any heels, so then I think maybe you didn't just get back to the hotel from some club or some guy's place, or some guys car. Maybe you weren't arriving from somewhere else at all. The only other viable scenario was that you had just finished sucking dick on this floor. Maybe you had just left a room down the hall. In which case, who's room were you in? Maybe I know whoever you had just sucked off!" I shook my head. "I hadn't just sucked anyone off." "You had a giant blob of cum on your cheek, right next to your mouth, right next to those heavily made up lips. Of course you just gave somebody a blowjob!" I shook my head again. "Not this time. The truth is he woke me up by sucking my little dick, and just before I could cum he just stopped sucking and starting fucking. He spent the better part of half an hour absolutely just pummelling me like a beast. Balls to the wall, total fucking. At the very last second he pulled out, knee-walked up the bed, and blasted his load all over my face." Angie smiled bigger than I've ever seen. "You slut!" "I know!" I answered, "my mouth was wide open, I wanted all his cum. I wanted to taste it, to savour it, and then swallow it. Instead, he...he..." "He painted you!" she giggled. "Yup," I replied, and then we looked at each other and laughed our heads off. "Men," she said, shaking her head, "just one thing, that's all they have to do, just one thing. Cum in your mouth, that's it. Instead they can't control their dicks and the next thing you know you're wearing it. And they'll spray you in the eye, which stings like hell by the way, so avoid that if you can, and then they'll smile and say 'oh sorry baby' or something like that." "Men," I said, quietly. We looked at each other for a while, no talking, and then she got up to refill our wine glasses. "So," she said, "are you gonna tell me which room you were coming out of, or do I have to guess?" I shook my head and took a swig of wine. "I'm not telling." "C'mon Jessica the slut!"she complained, flopping back down in her chair, "do you have any idea how wet my panties have been all day? Thinking about nothing else except who shot their cum on your face? Who was fucking you? Is it someone I know? Someone we both work with?" "Angie," I replied, "please don't push it." "Okay," she said, raising her hands in surrender, "I won't push it. So, what else? Let's see, you're my new neighbour, a gay cross-dressing feminine sissy slut, right?" "If one is interested in labels, then it would appear so," I chuckled. "Were any of those labels wrong, or incorrect? Or offensive?" she asked. "Incorrect? I don't know how to answer that," I replied. "Offensive? Not one iota. Yes, I adore cross-dressing as you call it, but again I don't know that I can be labelled in one way or another. Am I gay? I don't know, I've loved women in the past so maybe I'll still love women in the future. Maybe I'm just bi. Mostly, I think, I'm just sexual." She nodded. "How long have you been doing it?" "Being sexual?" I asked. "And the dressing up thing," she said. I laughed. "A week ago last Saturday is when I discovered I was Jessica. So, ten, eleven days." "That's all?" I nodded. "How many times has Jessica gotten laid in those ten, eleven days? And details, I want details." "Well," I said, "let's see. The first guy fucked me twice after I sucked him off. He's got a great cock. Way bigger than mine. The second guy was a couple of nights later, and he also fucked me twice. He's huge, cock-wise. Not thick, but so fucking long. Seriously, he touched parts of me inside with that snake that I didn't know existed. Then I spent a lovely evening making out and sucking off another CD, then I went back to the first guys house and sucked him off again and then he fucked me twice, again, both times from behind, like always, because that's the way he likes it and to be honest I fucking love it too, and get this, all with his wife's total approval, believe it or not, since she was off having her own lesbian side thing going on, then I spent Sunday night here with a new guy, and he fucked me twice, with a cock not quite as long as my second man but thicker than anything I've ever seen or taken, seriously, and then spent last night with this new guy and his thick cock, and his friend, another CD. She and I sucked each other off, while he fucking pile-drived me. Then later he fucked her. Then he woke me up and absolutely fucked the living shit out of me in the morning, and then he came all over my face, like I told you. So that makes..." "That makes a lot, in just ten or eleven days, which makes you the biggest slut I know, bigger than me, which makes me really jealous," she sighed, "because it's been a long time since I got laid, and I need it." I laughed. "You're horny, are you?" "Does the pope shit in the woods?" she asked, rhetorically. Angie left that dangling in the air. We just looked at each other. My tingles were telling me what I previously would have thought was just me being silly. Back in my old life, I never would have had the confidence to trust my feelings about women and how they worked. This time, I knew. It wasn't folly. I wasn't making it up out of sheer optimism. She wanted sex. With me. I thought about it for a second, but realized it probably wouldn't work. "I'd love to help you out, Angie, but," I replied, before she interrupted. "But you don't do real pussy anymore?" "No no, not like that," I answered, "I still very much want to do real pussy, as you call it. My ex used to tell me I was a championship pussy eater, and to be honest I used to love doing it. I can't see any reason why that would change." "But you don't want to do my pussy?" she asked, perhaps a bit defensively and plaintively. I looked at her, as seriously as I could. "Presuming you'd want me to, I would fucking love to do your pussy." "But..." I snorted a laugh. "But," I said, slowly, "I actually have a date tonight and I should start getting ready." She nearly dropped her wine glass as she reacted. "Another date? You slut!" she roared, "you fucking slut! Is it the same guy as last night?" I shook my head. "Nope." "Slut!" "Yup!" "Do all you cross-dressers get laid this much?" I laughed. "I don't know. But I do." We sat in silence for a few moments. Both of us sipping our wine. Both of us smiling and grinning at each other. At one point she looked over at the package I'd placed on the bed. "What's in the box?" "To be honest, I don't know," I said, "I didn't get a chance to look in it before you knocked on the door. The note from my friend said she's bought something for me." Angie raised her eyebrows at me. "Let's see!" She jumped up and moved to the bed. Opening the lid of the box, I could hear tissue paper being moved out of the way, and then I heard her take in a deep quick breathe. "Oooh!" she said. I was intrigued by her reaction. "Is that a good ooh or a bad ooh?" She came walking towards me, holding something in her hand. As she got close, she put her wine glass down on a table and used both hands to hold up a choker, similar to the one Michelle was wearing last night, and I remembered commenting at one point to both her and Peter that I wanted one. "It's a gorgeous choker, and its perfect to hide that enormous Adam's Apple of yours, which will help you pass much easier. Plus," she added, "if you look at it from certain angles it says the word 'SLUT'on it, so it's truth in advertising." I took it from her and studied the design. The word slut was there, alright, but subtle, and only able to be seen in certain light situations. I twisted and turned it back and forth, and saw the word slut appear and disappear. Angie was back at the box, and this time her ooh's were much louder and much more pronounced. "Holy shit," she whispered. "What?" I asked. She turned to look at me over her shoulder. "There is some seriously sexy and seriously expensive lingerie in here." Now she had my interest. "There is?" "Uh huh! A gorgeous bustier, and waist-cincher, and garter set. All in white. And the bra cups have little fillers in them, just to boost up what you naturally have already. Matching panties. Mmmm, very nice. And stockings too, wow, silk! And shoes! Also white. They must be four inch heels and very sexy. My god, I recognize this brand. Whoever your friend is, she's very generous. This shit's expensive. Ooh, plus there's a silk robe too, also white. Wow! The whole outfit is fucking sexy! And virginal. Which you are definitely not, you slut. Still, you wear this stuff and you will have them eating out of the palm of your hand! You'll look like a bride on her wedding night. And I should know, I've had three of them." I was shocked. "You've had three wedding nights?" "Huey, Duey and Luey. Huey was hung like a horse and could fuck like nobody's business. The problem was he was fucking every other pussy he could get his hands on. Duey was a rebound. A really sweet guy, hell, a really caring guy. Not much in the sack, though. I ended up cheating on him, which made me feel like a cunt when he found out. Luey was a fling that went crazy, and before we knew it we were married and we soon discovered that we were better off as a fling. I was an idiot marrying Huey, and Luey for that matter. I really should have worked harder at keeping Duey." "Three divorces, wow," I stammered in disbelief, trying to find the right words, "you're not that old, are you?" She laughed, almost like a snort. "Ha! I'm thirty-five, and I've been divorced three times. How's that for something that attracts men? It's no wonder I can't get laid. Christ, they find out about my past, and they're gone. Poof!" "But that's so wrong!" I added. "You are gorgeous, and smart, and obviously a successful businesswoman. And if you don't mind me saying, you have a set of tits that could make a dead man hard! So why can't you get laid?" As I spoke, she was carefully laying out the lingerie, handling everything with the delicate feminine hands of a pro. She was touching the material, reverently. I could tell she was impressed. She went to move the box off the bed onto the floor, when we both heard a small clunk from inside. Opening the box again, she fished around through the crinkly tissue paper and finally came out with a small vial. A tiny little thing. "There's some perfume as well." I knew instantly what it was. LUST. I decided to see if it worked. "Open it up, Angie," I said, "take a sniff and tell me what you think." From behind I watched her put the box down, and then one hand held the vial and one carefully unscrewed the tiny cap. And the room filled with LUST. I recognized it immediately. It had the exact same effect on me it did last night, too. I went instantly hard, in my panties. My blood starting pumping harder, my tingles launched into the stars, and my nostrils flared as I started breathing heavier. I saw the back of her head fall back slightly, as if she was suddenly in a rapturous moment, and I watched her whole body come alive, and then I watched her ass flex and become more pert, and she began clenching her thighs together. And I knew instantly what she was trying to do. She was trying to stimulate her clit, work her pussy, and make herself cum. The slut! I spoke, with a whispered directness. "Angie, put the cap back on the vial." She did. "Now put the vial back in the box." She did. "Now, turn around and look at me." She didn't do it. Not immediately. But a few seconds to consider and reconsider and assess herself later she allowed her true self to take over. She slowly turned to face me. She was still trying to clench her thighs together. Her eyes looked glassy, as if she was intoxicated, which I realized she was. Her nipples! Oh my god, her nipples. I thought they were big before! That was nothing, either this morning in her sports bra or for the last half hour or so, the entire time she'd been in my suite. At that moment her nipples had grown to extraordinary sizes. Just mind-bogglingly huge. I've seen curtain rods that were smaller in diameter. And the rise and fall of her breasts told me all I needed to know about her state of mind. Her bosom was heaving, literally, and I thought to myself HOLY FUCKING SHIT THOSE ARE THE BREASTS I WANT. They are the perfect size. I guessed she was a 36C. Maybe a D. And the lacy frilly bra she wore was stylish and sexy, modern, and not the kind used to hold up saggy boobs. Her set was more or less as I saw them. Big and round and high on her chest and slightly jiggly and just absolutely fucking perfect. I want her boobs. I flashed back to my conversation last night with Peter and Michelle. I told them the idea of having breasts was intriguing to me then. Now, all I could think about was having tits like Angie's. She was just staring at me, breathing hard, her nipples straining her blouse. "Close your eyes, Angie," I purred. "Why?" she asked. "Just close them," I answered. So she did. I rose quickly, unbuttoning my shirt as fast as my fingers could work them, and then slid it off when I was done. Then I unsnapped the belt and unzipped and let my trousers fall to the floor. Revealing the real me. Hairless and smooth, a milky-white body, rosy red nipples, panties and thigh-high stockings. That's it. I moved to her, and then fell to my knees. Her skirt was tight, and she was still clenching her thighs together. "Angie, stop." She did. I used my hands on her legs, to make her open them and stand with her ass right on the edge of the mattress. Then I moved my hands up inside her skirt, right to the top of her panties, and began pulling them off her hips. She wriggled and squiggled and helped me and they fell to the floor. They were a pastel sky blue in colour, and oh my fucking god the gusset was soaking. I could see little droplets of her musk, little orbs of her pussy juice. I lifted the panties to my nose, and sniffed them. They smelled like pussy. They smelled like heaven! I took a deep lung full of her cunt aroma, and looked up. She had opened her eyes, and was watching me. Her eyes were still glassy, but the smile on her face and the way her cheekbones glowed made me realize she was turned on, watching me sniff her panties. "Close your eyes again," I whispered. She did. Then I ducked my head under her skirt, and looked at her. I saw her legs spread, lewdly. Then my eyes darted to her pubic hair, just a little landing strip, like a welcome mat leading into her very core. Her pussy, dappled here and there with an almost golden liquid, was hairless. She had an enormous fleshy hood above her clitoris, but I could see it straining to get out. I blew a lungful of cool air right at her clit. From above me I heard a cry, a deep female cry of pleasure, breathy and honest and unrestrained. Then, with just the tip of my tongue, I began at the bottom of her pussy, where her lips began to split, and then wriggling like a worm, I worked my tongue up and then into her folds. She lost her balance and fell back onto the bed. She was laying on some of my new lingerie, I suspected. My first thought was she might damage my new sexy clothes! Then I realized I didn't care. This was fun! I began eating her, the way I used to eat my ex-wife. She'd always loved it, always said I was born to eat pussy, back when I was a straight male. Now, a few years later, I know that wasn't true. Not a straight male at all. A very sexual feminine creature. A special woman, who loves cock and cum and being fucked by men. But also, I realized then and there, a special woman who enjoyed genetic women too. Especially eating pussy. My tingles were expanding again, taking me to sensual and sexual places I'd not imagined before. Just a few minutes later, Angie was panting and babbling like a drug addict having convulsions, so I reached up with my right hand and cupped her left breast, feeling it's weight and heft and size, feeling how soft it was, how resolutely womanly it felt in my hand, and how proud I was to be holding it. And how much prouder I'd be to have them, on me, on my body, on my chest. Then I felt the big nipple against my palm, like touching the unlit end of a huge Cuban cigar. I pinched it. Once. One big squeeze. Thumb and forefinger. Lots of pressure, fast and hopefully unexpected. She just started screaming and squirting, all over my face. A veritable gusher of pussy juice came out of her, covering me. I mean, covering me. And it shone, in the light of the hotel room, even in mostly darkness, my head up under her skirt. It was like her cum radiated from her, and filled even the darkest places with rays of light. I worked her clit in between my lips, using long slow swipes to continue her orgasm. And she didn't disappoint me. She kept on gurgling out noises from her mouth while her cunt kept gurgling out delicious nectar into my yearning mouth, and all over my face. A few minutes later, her hands came down on both sides of my head, and she pushed me away. She was all cummed out. I backed off, in my skimpy lingerie, and just watched her, laying back on the bed, tits and body going up and down and up and down as her heavy breathing slowly ebbed. Coming down. After a few more minutes, she was back in the land of the living. She sat up, and looked at me, still kneeling, almost naked save for panties and thigh-highs. "When does your date get here?" "Around nine." She looked at her wristwatch. "Okay, we've got time." "Time for what?" "Time to get you ready." "We?" I asked. She stood up, on wobbly legs. Then she looked at me, my face positively awash in her vaginal juices. "I haven't cum like that in a long long time. Did you like it?" "Are you kidding?" I asked, "it was fantastic." "Okay," she said, louder, and she clapped her hands together. "You, in the shower, now. Get clean, inside and out." Then she stopped, and looked at me. "You have what you need to get clean inside?" I nodded. "Okay, good," she continued, "I'll get your lingerie out of the packages and ready to go, and I'll get your makeup ready. Give me your keycard." "My keycard?" "I need to pop over to my suite and get some of my makeup. I assume you didn't travel with a lot?" "Not really, no." "Okay," she said, "so that's the plan. You get clean, and shaved smooth, and then I'll help you with your makeup." I smiled at her. "You don't have to do that, Angie." "Are you fucking kidding me?" she blurted out, "I want to do it. Now, get moving!" I used the enema kit, three times, until it was running out of me clear. Then I showered and shaved, paying close attention to everything. Then I walked out of the bathroom and she began helping me into the absolutely sexiest lingerie I've ever seen. It was breathtakingly soft and lacy. And smooth. The workmanship was world-class. The material was soft and satiny or silky and made me swoon. And the waist-cincher worked like a hot-damn. I HAD HIPS! All of which made my little cock hard as granite. Which she obviously noticed. "You want me to take care of that for you?" she asked, "cause I could make that happen!" "I do, yes," I replied, "but I'm going to say no this time." "Wow," she said, admiringly, "you want to save it for him, right, for your man?" I nodded to her, eagerly. "You have amazing patience." Then she did my makeup. She gave me the most amazing smoky-blue eye shadow, and used mascara to make my eyelashes huge. I'd never used mascara before, and she showed me how to apply it, about how to remove it, and also told me about false lashes that could be glued on, and how it was relatively simple to get them off. It was so cool, having someone to give me the ins and outs of what was a new subject for me. By the time she was done, explaining everything as she went along, I looked like a trillion bucks. When I slid my Farrah wig on, and then looked in the mirror, I almost came inside my white virginal panties. I looked fucking hot! The choker hid the bump in my throat, and with all the jewelry I'd brought with me, including my CD SLUT ankle bracelet, I did indeed look so much like a sexy woman, oozing bedtime vibes, dressed for loving. At five to nine, she hugged me just inside my door, and air kissed me on both cheeks. "Have fun, sweetie," she whispered. "Oh, I will." I promised her. And then she smiled at me, and then her face turned to mock protestation. "And try to keep it down over here, okay? I mean, I'm right next door, so any moans or groans of screams at all might be audible, and as a nosy neighbour, I might be sitting uncomfortably against a wall, listening through the girders and gyproc and whatever, fingering myself, naked on the floor." Then she went back to a wicked smile. "Well," I said, "we wouldn't want that, would we?" "You bet we would!" Then she left. I heard her door shut. I heard the elevator go ding. I heard the elevator doors open. I heard footsteps in the hall, getting louder as they approached my door. Then I heard a knock knock. Two raps. I opened the door, just slightly, and said in my breathiest feminine voice "give me a moment to get ready for you." Then I moved back into the big room, and stood. My hands demurely behind me. When he walked in, he'd see the real me. Brownish-blond curly hair, cascading down my back. Perfect makeup, classy and assured, big pouty lips in an almost wine-coloured red. My white silk robe was loosely tied around me, designed to be tight at the hips, giving me an even better hourglass figure. I had LUST daubed behind my ears, and directly in the center of my bosom. The white heavenly matching lingerie set was underneath the robe. It felt like passion, on my skin. It felt like every pore of my skin that it touched was being warmed, and bathed in goodness and light. My four inch heels moulded to my feet, made me feel like I was statuesque and exotic. I had never felt more feminine, more sexy, more sensual, or more womanly. I had never felt more alive. Finally, after an agonizing minute, Brad came into the room. Slowly. As soon as he saw me, his expression changed. His initial joy and ardor was replaced, with awe. He just looked at me, up and down, over and over again. He was in a dark sports jacket, collared shirt with no tie, and dark jeans, which I could see had a huge lump in them. His cock, that great cock. He looked every bit the successful business man, somebody's husband, someone's Dad. "Wow" was all he said. "Do you like? Do you think I look sexy?" I asked. He just stood there, staring at me, boring beams of intensity into my eyes. And then, a moment before I could even begin to understand his delay, he moved to me, sweeping me into his arms, almost crushing me with his energy, tilting my upper body backwards with the force of his arrival, his eyes closing as his mouth neared mine, his lips enticingly touching mine, barely, like a slight breeze on a hot summers day, exquisite for a second and then gone away. But not gone away for long. His eyes opened briefly, looked into mine, wordlessly telling me he was hornier than he'd ever been, and then they closed again, his lips locking onto mine, this time for real. We stood and kissed and made out, his tongue leading mine on a whirlwind ride, back and forth and in and out, our saliva mixing and sloshing, both of us breathing heavily out of our nostrils, my body held by him so tightly that I could feel every muscle of his move, every beat of his heart, ever ripple of his sexual energy roiling through him. I could feel his cock, that amazing piece of meat, that cock that deflowered me, that first cock to penetrate me, the hard throbbing shaft that opened me, challenged me. That cock that first fucked me. We stood and kissed and rocked back and forth for over twenty minutes. We were in love with it. I was his gurl now, his feminine sexual plaything. His to take, anyway he wanted. I knew it. He knew it. Both of us knew the other knew it, and both of us wanted it that way. And I already knew exactly how he wanted it. How he liked to do it. One of the last things Angie had done before she'd left was to generously lube my asspussy, using three of her slim fingers, and then she pushed my butt plug into me, in an agonizingly slow pace. Now, I was pulsing on it, wanting it, wanting it to move, to begin taking me on the ride to euphoria. I broke the kiss. I looked into Brads eyes, which were hungry and serious. "Brad, fuck me now. Right now!" He kissed me again, hard, with his hands on my hips. Then he spun me, to face away from him, and I looked out of the big sliding glass door out onto the deck, and then across the street to the apartment building. It wasn't directly opposite us, but close enough as made no difference. The floor to ceiling curtains were open, and with the soft lighting in the room, I knew instantly that anyone across the street with a voyeuristic tendency would be able to see what was going on. Anyone with binoculars would be able to watch in total clarity. My robe was untied from behind me, and the silky garment slid off my shoulders, dropping noiselessly to the floor. Big hands slid up my bare arms, to my shoulders, and I felt a kiss planted on my neck, just below my right ear. It made me murmur, and my tingles went kaboom all over again. Then those hands started pushing my upper body forward. My hands reached out, and I placed them on the glass door. I had opened it a touch earlier, to let in some cool air, and now I was bent over, bracing myself on the glass, feeling Brad's hands sliding down my body, cradling my breasts, teasing my tummy, gliding over my little cock in the white lacy panties, and whirling over and around my smooth thighs. He moved both hands, and began playing with my ass cheeks, from behind me. His head was still close to mine, although with me being bent over from the waist he couldn't kiss my mouth, so he just whispered to me, telling me how beautiful I looked, like a bride on her wedding night, and how hot it made him, and how all he could think about was fucking me until he exploded, and now here we were, on view for half the fucking city, and how hot that made him as well. While he was blurting out every single delicious thought that was entering his Jessica-addled brain, I heard Angie's sliding deck door open, slowly, and quietly. Brad had somehow managed to get his shoes and pants off, while still running his hands over my ass cheeks, squeezing them and grabbing them and lifting them and separating them, all the while telling me how all he could think about all day was being with me again, how my ass was so fucking gorgeous and sexy, and how badly he wanted to be inside me again. To fuck me again. I heard a couple of brief, fleeting noises through my open door, both of which made me believe that my neighbour was on her deck, listening to us. And how fucking sexy is that? Brad pulled my panties to the side. His big finger sought out my pussy hole, and ran into the base of my butt plug first. He toyed me with it. He pulled at it, slowly, and brought most of it out of me, and then shoved it back in, hurriedly. I gasped in delight, my palms flat against the glass door. Then he did it three more times, in and out and in and out and in and out. But the plug was only four inches long or so, and hardly the kind of fucking I wanted or needed at that point. I whispered for him to take it out of me and give me what I really wanted. He asked if I'd been a good gurl, good enough to deserve his cock. I swore on my mother's grave that I was the best slutty gurl of all, and that I knew he wanted to fuck me more than anything in the entire world. I said it loud enough so that if Angie was indeed listening, she'd be able to keep up. He slid the plug out of me, and my pussy hole clenched at the air, trying to find cock to hold onto. A moment later, he pushed a finger into me. He felt the lube that was still inside me, coating me, preparing me for his flesh. He didn't disappoint. A moment later, I felt him spread my cheeks, and then the very tip of the head of his cock slid up and down my valley. Back and forth. Teasing me. Every time my pussy hole felt the head near it, my ass naturally tilted back, trying to capture his cock, trying to force it into me, into my body, into my soul, into my core. Trying to find his cock and place it back where it belongs. In my pussy. His teasing lasted for a few more moments, and then he got serious. I felt the head of his cock stop right at my cunt, right at the entrance. I flexed around the head, my pussy lips eager and yearning. His voice behind me told me all I needed to know about his feelings. "Remember that first time, when you were in the bedroom holding Carol's panties? Remember how you sucked me off, and I was still so fucking horny that I threw you down on the bed and mounted you? Do you remember that, Jessica?" "I'll remember that until my dying day, Brad," I whispered. He shoved the head of his cock into me, expanding me in a hurry, opening me at a moment I wasn't prepared for, and the noise that came out of my mouth was scary. Like an animal possessed, it was a combination of sounds. Pain, yes, from the unexpected penetration. But it was just for a moment or two. Most of the sound was pure and unadulterated joy, expressed audibly. The joy of my life. Having cock inside me again, especially cock I'm already familiar with and in love with. His width was filling me, moving my insides, as he kept sliding into me. One gigantic thrust from him, and I felt his balls against my ass cheeks. Filled with cock. Again. I closed my eyes, oblivious to the world around me, unconcerned with anyone who might be watching. If they wanted to see me having sex, then who was I to deny them their thrill? Because their thrill would pale next to the thrills I was getting. Brad started fucking me. Long deep penetrating strokes, and he'd hold himself inside my pussy at the end of each one, savouring the feel of my channel molding itself around his size, his hardness. And each stroke into me was followed by an animalistic grunt from him, and an animalistic grunting gasp from me, as his thrusts were literally knocking the air out of my lungs. For a long time, that's all there was. His deep baritone grunt, followed by my higher-pitched grunt and gasp. UNGGGGH! He'd groan. UNGGGHHHHHOOOOOH! I'd reply. UNGGGH! UNGGGHHHHOOOOH! Again and again, like a broken record. For the first ten minutes or so, his tempo was solid, and steady. BANG BANG BANG BANG. He was fucking me, from behind, his hands in a death-grip on my hips, pulling me to him with every thrust, smashing our bodies together in that muted thump thump thump that rutting people make, all topped off with the slightly tinny squishy sounds made by the lube. Angie was getting a symphony of sex to listen to. And despite the fact that we'd just met, I was absolutely sure I already knew her well enough to know that she was frigging herself. I was sure of it. I could almost see two slim feminine fingers buried in her wet, dripping pussy. I could almost hear the squishy sounds she was making all on her own. Brad, being Brad, just continued to fuck me. POUND POUND POUND POUND went the palms of my hands, on the glass door, as he began speeding up. His cock was getting the better of him now, leading him now, instead of the other way around. Nature had taken over, and any semblance of control his intellect might have had at the beginning of the fuck was gone now. This was just primal fucking. No niceties, no arbitrarily-created manners. No semblance of contrived formalities. This was fucking. Basic, and as old as the stars. His cock, my pussy, two bodies smashing into each other, searching for the moments of sexual zen, searching for release. A man and his fervor, rising and racing along. His cock was growing in size too, I swear it. It felt huge in my ass now, like always, but delightfully getting bigger as we fucked. That meant the end was coming soon. That meant his passion was building, making him move faster, making him shove his great cock into my pussy harder and faster, shaking our bodies, our skin jiggling and rippling in certain areas with every fuck stroke, our breathing in matched sequence from his every stab into me. He'd groan, and breathe, in his masculine voice. Then I'd groan and gasp, in my feminine voice. I tried to imagine what we looked like, from the point of view of anyone in the building across the street who might have discovered us. Who might have been casually looking out the window with the purest of intentions, nothing untoward at all, and then being shocked out of normality by the sight of a woman, in virginal white lingerie, with her hands up against the glass door, her body bent slightly forward, her legs spread behind her, and a man forcefully and dramatically just balls-to-the-wall pounding his cock into her from behind. Both of them lost on their wave of approaching orgasm. A few minutes later, I went first. It came up on me like a wildfire, totally unexpected. One second I'm gasping and panting and moaning and oohing as Brad fucked me, all my senses aware of how sexy I felt dressing in the finest with a man's cock inside my pussy, and the next moment I was literally screaming and spewing a fountain of white cum all over the glass door. Like a hose. I just sprayed and sprayed. And with each pulse my entire insides spasmed, moving my mid-section like a belly dancer. Like a repeating wave of pleasure. Each shot of cum was followed by a clench, a rolling of flesh. I love my tingles! Then Brad yelled "FUCK!" and pulled me violently back onto his cock, trying his darnedest to push it farther into me than ever before, and he continued yelling "FUCK" with each throb of cum he was shooting into me. I could feel it, the liquid love he was pouring into me. It made my heart smile. Five or six loud "FUCK" sounds reverberated through my hotel suite, and then we both made an almost-anguished sound, as our skin shook and our souls jumped through space and time together on their orgasmic rocket ride. I had a tear running down my cheek. I felt like I'd just been through the most intense work out ever, which I sort of had, considering that it is in fact a physically demanding process to take a cock inside my ass like that. It's a pretty major thing, being fucked, like a slutty gurl. And like other intense moments in life, it took more than a few moments to go through, process, appreciate, and then slowly let go of. That's when I heard a real feminine gasp, barely, through my open sliding glass door. Angie had cum too. I FUCKING LOVE MY TINGLES!!!! The end.