Preachers Daughter Chapter 13 and Preacher Sucks
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Not Her Fantasy free porn video
The camera shutter captured it: an awkward gazelle astride a lion.
In reverse, her porcelain thighs opened, crimson lips snug around his shaft. Slender, beautiful with scattered tresses of fiery hair, she came to a halt.
A nagging suspicion is one thing, ignoring my intuition is something else.
“Amy, this isn’t your fantasy is it?”
Apple-cheeked, a timid shake of her head followed.
Playing on their cadence, unhurried heels clipped the parquet floor. As a shadowy presence, it darkened her pearlescent body. Shiny teeth nibbled at her top lip, it might fray like her nerves. Only youthful naiveté revealed these off-guard moments.
Asked outright, she would deny it.
My thumb dimpled her chin, the warm light reflected in those conflicted eyes. Her glance flitted to my painted smile. The first caress of our lips yielded a whimper of protest. Cupping her breast, it re-animated her body. A pluck of its hardened nipple and our lips met again. The tip of her tongue danced with mine and provoked a wanton murmur.
Her features revealed a once-hidden secret.
“Amy, I can take it from here. Go, sit over there. Watch us.”
His meaty erection fell from her sex. The cuckolded candualist had enough pictures now.
Covetous hands roamed his broad torso. Taken in hand, my serpentine tongue traced the long ridge of his erection. Our eyes met, his expression etched with an impatient need. Devouring the plump glans, hot saliva coated him. Chunky balls held firm, his broad perineum, smooth and fat with blood. He roused with a sonorous groan. The pleasant taste of her essence fired my imagination. Urgent fingers addressed the compulsion to masturbate.
Taking her place, astride this brute in reverse, I rode him severely. Galloped as a prize stallion, the fat heft of his penis fed the cravings within.
Words echoed off the walls, instructions for her, a test. Her legs opened and two fingers splayed her sex. The epitome of obedience, Amy did not retreat from our stare. Back curled, calves on the armrests, our voyeur exhibited her onanistic skill.
I told her to climax and those automatic hips betrayed her. Her airy yelps fused with our moans of carnal pleasure. Devouring the spectacle, she bucked and shuddered. Crying out at its tumult, delicate features melted into a haze of contentment.
Beckoned with a single finger, her slender body approached. Peaky and flustered, her gaze deflected to the pivot of our union. Fixed with a resolute stare, she obeyed my instructions. Her caress snaked towards my sex.
Reaching to her, a lingering kiss encouraged her acquiescence, “Touch me.”
The circular caress of her deft fingers melded into the conspiracy of senses. The clarion call of my orgasm stiffened moans into cries. He knew the signs and scythed into me. Hips inspired into strident undulations, they provoked the endgame. Wide-eyed, told to continue, she bore witness to another woman’s climax. Hasty words commanded her and Amy massaged his balls. Moving as one, the clatter of our bodies rose. His louder growls of capitulation faded to silence. Struggling, fully captured inside, the smear of my hips forced his capitulation. With stuttered growls and desperate thrusts, his milk boiled over.
Avidly, she watched how it twitched and pulsed. My husband filled me in the place where he sired our children. The storm quietened and Amy’s rapt expression induced a snigger.
Jolted back to reality, I stole a kiss. He fell from me and a bead of cream ran from my sex.
“Amy, hand me my robe.”
Her eyes agog, I covered my naked body, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Dressed, she wanted to talk to me, alone. Waiting for the taxi in the hallway, she flustered, spat vowels, stopped, and tried again.
“This wasn’t what he wanted… you won’t… erm, say… ”
A finger to her lips stopped her rising emotions.
“Amy… shush, none of this goes any further. As far as we’re concerned, everything happened how he wanted it to.”
“That’s…” her sigh carried an air of resignation, “that’s what I’m afraid of.”
Concerned, “Amy, if you don’t want to do this, no-one is forcing you.”
Handing over the camera, she gave me a weak smile, “Thank you, he won’t make me do anything anymore, he’s dumped.”
Taken aback by her forthrightness, it piqued my curiosity, “This wasn’t what you wanted, was it? You should have said.”
“No… I should have said lots of things before this happened,” and the admission seemed to calm her. “I… I experimented a bit at college, y’know? With girls. This was my first time with a couple. You two are amazing but I… I don’t like having my picture taken. Not like that.”
“Then delete them.”
“I will.” Crumbling, crestfallen, she would not fall.
Embraced in consolation, “You have more courage than I did when I was twenty-two.”
“Thank you. Men, huh?”
“Maybe…”
“You have been very understanding.”
The rattle of a diesel engine pulled up outside.
Amy straightened herself out, “Thanks again.”
“Why don’t you give me your number? Let’s have lunch, on me. We can talk about it?”
Hesitating, that lip might fray this time, she nodded, “Okay.”
The letterbox clattered when the front door shut.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
We lived in an empty nest and rediscovered the appetites of our younger selves. We yearned for the experiences put aside to raise our family. These tastes existed beyond convention and we found them on-line.
Like our encounter with Amy, not exactly a resounding success. The experience did invigorate my husband, not difficult at the worst of times.
A sublime fuck, he took me, the only man that ever could. Nuzzling his ear, whispered words described the plan. It spiced the potency of his drive; our vivid discourse intensified each orgasm. Rising in power, they wore him down. Mired in perspiration, weakened in his embrace, he relented and gave in. Entwined together, he slammed his essence into me.
Amy agreed to meet a week later.
Walking into the bistro, her tremulous greeting revealed a nervous energy. Angelica eyes sparkled with the first bloom of womanhood. A tender kiss brushed my cheek and her hug was unexpected, it verged on the intimate.
That dress might be a size too small; her lissom figure carried it well. Too much make up, too much volume to her fiery hair, she did not need to try so hard.
I chose that neutral expression, a countenance not revealed in public. Dusky eyed, painted lips, veiled behind a curtain of chestnut tresses. An ex-boyfriend said it would be better to smile, or risk looking like a disinterested whore.
Amy drank wine in the nervous pauses, one glass and then another. What we did remained unsaid.
Finding common ground, our conversation disarmed her reticence. My air of detachment roused her curiosity, now she steered our exchange. The longer it remained undiscussed, the more it charged the atmosphere. This neutral look sought attention. I wanted the possibilities on her mind and nothing else. The trap baited, patience would make my quarry yield.
You might think of me as cruel and austere. You might want to play this game and fear where to start… and who to trust. Her Svengali ex-boyfriend, all too common in this lifestyle dented her confidence. To see Amy was to look into a mirror, decades ago. From bitter experience, unrequited lust is a miserable existence.
You might want to know what the bistro looked like, or the inside of our home. You might want to know why my husband worked away from home all week.
What does it have to do with passion? In those moments of euphoria, does everything around you matter? There is musicality in the cries of passion and lyricism in emotions inspired by lust. Is it wrong to escape the shackles of reality?
My husband and I were two such kindred spirits. We wanted to live outside the mundane and sought the marvellous. Amy did too and did not know how. Such an uncut gem made her the most precious of all.
Your dreams might be stolen as you age, not this one. The immolation burned brightest for this fantasy. A blank canvas, transformed from the inane into the spectacular. Amy would learn to overcome the delicious fear of novelty. Together, we would explore her path to fulfilment. The irony of her personality meant she lacked the self-will.
It was a casual offer to drive her home. In the car of all places, an apprehensive caress of my thigh. Soulful eyes petitioned with her giveaway bitten lip. For such a passive creature, it was a bold move.
As an invitation of endless euphemisms: coffee, we never drank it.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The clatter of the letterbox echoed through the hallway and she succumbed at the first kiss. Reciprocating with the zest of a novice, Amy kissed me as she would a man. I showed her a different way and extracted her confession. Breathing shattered, my plan revealed between soft smooches. Her capitulation signalled with a passionate clinch.
“You… you have a wonderful body,” she trembled, her eyes weighed down by lust.
“So do you. Amy, you are going to bring out the best and worst in me.”
Swallowing, breathless, “I… I hope so.”
Holding her clammy hand, led to our bedroom, she practised more and more. Each time she got it right, a discarded item of her clothing fell to the floor. Reduced to lace panties, nostrils flared for air. Too naïve to bluff, I caressed her slender curves, smooth as timeworn marble.
A stray thumb glided over a hardened nipple, the start of a caress down to the inside of her thigh. A touch close enough to feel the heat, diverted at the last minute to her loins. Quivering, weighted eyes looked into mine.
“You have ‘experimented’ before, Amy?”
Reticent, she nodded.
“Show me.”
Stepping back, my wraparound dress pooled on the floor. Attired for this moment in raven black, as decadent as an upmarket Berlin brothel. Sheer stockings, suspenders, breasts shaped by the seamless contours of a fitted brassiere. Between my legs, nothing, naked skin waxed smooth.
Clasping the edge of the dressing table, Amy knelt between my legs. Her hot breath grazed my inner thighs. To console her pensive eyes, outstretched fingers ran through her hair. My mons presented, she edged closer with flawless eye contact. Velvet tipped, it breeched my sex. Murmured long and low, I purred with appreciation. Circling its hood, an adroit flick surged electricity through me. Held in place, she did not struggle, there was no reluctance now.
Her skills betrayed her understated ability. It revealed herself as much as gave me pleasure. Just her mouth and tongue, it cast aside the world around me. Connected through wide undaunted eyes, her patience aggravated the binding tension. The need to gasp rose, an outlet for the rising euphoria. Younger, that deficit in confidence no longer mattered. Older, I tried to maintain the upper hand; instead, the compulsion to climax soared.
A gasp stiffened into a cry, still Amy looked to me. The first cramp of muscle squeezed at the pressure inside. Another, it loosened, and each limb tightened. She did not fight as I rubbed my sex onto her face. The rush of release nurtured until it burst forth as noise and rising judders. A blessed release throbbed through me, relief from so much angst.
Bathed in its warm glow; Amy continued.
“You… you can stop…” rushed on the exhalation of a deep breath.
For a moment, our dynamic hung precariously in the balance.
Helped to her feet, folded into my embrace, a shower of kisses confirmed her obedience.
“Good girl, that was very good.”
“It was?”
A surfeit of affection placed my lips to hers. Rewarded for her naiveté, the temptation of surrender surged through me. Gentle fingertips skirted her erogenous zones, and she whimpered for more.
“Lie on the bed.”
Prone, she watched without a word spoken. Eschewing my lingerie, I wanted her to watch and admire. I worked hard to maintain the figure of my youth. A harder sacrifice as each year added to the tally over forty. Savouring her latent elegance, she trembled as unconquered territory, petite and so fragile.
“Remove your panties.”
They looped in an arc to the floor.
As an obdurate stare, it never wavered; knelt alongside her, there was no bargaining. Splayed legs crooked and slender arms aloft; her excited torso flexed. Her pallor carried a rash of arousal. Breasts stretched taut like upturned dinner plates. Scrunched pink nipples stood proud, long, and delicious.
There was no smile and the back of my hand grazed her face, “My turn.”
A simple touch on her knee, her thighs fell open, the bare hillock of her mons rose at their confluence. Wide eyes revealed her vulnerability and she trembled with fractured breaths. Amy flexed and whimpered, tantalising fingers edged closer towards her rapture. Denied, they retreated. Invisible patterns drawn on her body, those undulating hips betrayed her need. Each gasp shorter than the last, her sex cleaved open and the tirade of her enthusiasm spilt forth.
Caught by surprise, she gasped when penetrated. Sodden, a rich warmth coated two probing fingers. An outstretched thumb applied pressure; it circled and rubbed her clit. Combinations tried like a thief until I found my ill-gotten gains. It glistened like morning dew, squishy sounds competed with her shallow moans.
Lost in the sensations, eyes closed, Amy lamented with fractured moans. A squeeze of her breast, its long nipple plucked. Predictable in its escalation, edged to the precipice of release. Held back again, she writhed on a plateau of arousal.
Tick, tock, tick, tock, each kiss on her inner thighs marked time. Loitering, my determined stare met her fevered gaze. Taunting, so close and then backing away, her whimpers of frustration rose.
Prowling as a decisive hunter, no quarter given, her surrendered body flexed. Lips pursed, cool air bathed her glossy sex. A smooth pillow, fine labial lips, clit prominent and peeked through its hood. She bobbed as flotsam on a roused ocean, her sex offered to devour. So near, yet so far, and bit her bottom lip. Eye-to-eye, a string of saliva fell towards her swollen vulva. On impact, she gasped black mouthed.
“Pay attention.”
Opened like the petals of a flower, a flick of my tongue, and her hands gripped the bedsheet. A metronomic cadence called out by long moans of pent-up frustration.
My lips ensconced it, variations of fingers and tongue sent airy gasps rising on the crisp air. The waves of rhythmic muscle built and Amy revealed her struggle. Commanded to beg, she gave a timid plea. Insufficient, the cycle began again, closer to release and its promise snatched away. The strength of her petition grew until she writhed.
Her hands dared to touch me, to direct me. The threat of restraint provoked a flood of her juices. Gripping the bedstead, it rattled with metallic complaint. More loud cries begged for relief until she trembled and shuddered. Imploring me, with yelps of desperation, I relented.
Big lungfuls of air matched her convulsions and shrill cries echoed at its tumult. Limbs rigid, the rising judders seized to the point of a motionless singularity. Howling, sinews stretched then vibrated as piano strings. She fell, trapped in the web of my design. The explosion of tension revealed lithe muscles beneath her flawless skin.
Into a refractory state, flinching, her mantra of repetition begged for more. Greedy or abandoned, time would tell.
“Very good Amy.”
“Thank you…” her words lacked strength, “thank you...”
Onto her knees, adapted as a living doll. Leant forward, her forehead placed onto the soft mattress. Her arms placed between open thighs, the ratchet of cuffs fastened her wrists. She wore it without comment: a soft leather collar and silver leash.
Light bondage, nothing too much, it signified her status. Spice that flavoured the dish, I wanted to enflame, not make it unpalatable.
My husband and I toured the fleshpots of Europe. We witnessed and sampled many sexual peccadillos and tastes. This was our kink, enough beyond the norm. I wanted to possess her mind, the most erotic sexual organ of all.
Cool exhaled air, a zephyr breeze caressed both her holes. The tip of this sharp tongue could be acerbic. Now, it lashed over the intimate knot of muscle. It pleased me how she begged with conviction. Another boundary exceeded, another point awarded to the many so far.
The mere touch of the slender buzzing toy made her flinch. Its volume subdued when pushed into her tightest hole, her cries were louder. Slim and quiet, it belied its power. The slow licks of her sex lulled her into a false prospectus. Attuned to her breathing, as my fingers breeched her, only then did she understand.
An old life washed away; these new experiences defined it now.
Her sex sucked on two fingers, the whip of flame-red hair lashed back. Gathered up into my hand, I plundered her sex. Mournful cries rose like a baying machine gun. I gave no quarter and she begged for more. A swat of her behind delivered punishment for speaking out of turn.
To the point of rapid judders, her muscular walls clenched and eased. Pulling the crumpled sheets tight, her frantic movements synchronised with mine. Wailing, crying louder, the sloshing noises increased. Fighting to constrain it, told to wait for permission, she bucked and shook. A losing battle, and the toy laid waste to her self-control. Saliva flecked howls, red-faced, the tempest gathered.
Every sinew tight, unable to control the quaking tremors, she begged to her last broken breath.
“Take your orgasm, Amy.”
Then it came: convulsions unbecoming of such a delicate rose. Consumed by unseen electricity, her breasts quivered. Shrill cries followed with jagged spasms, those porcelain thighs shook as if they might break. It raged with the violence of a breeched dam. Tremulous cries warbled as it vented through her body.
Slumped prone, legs splayed, and a red hand mark on her pert rump. Between those flanks, the cushion of her bare sex, swollen and chastised. The vibrating tormentor removed, she did not see my smile of self-congratulation. The snick of the key in the tiny lock freed her wrists.
“Enough?”
Swallowing, still shaking, “No, more…”
“Very good. I like you Amy, you have spirit.”
“Th… thank you.”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
The women in our family had Nonna and Madre to thank for their thoroughbred Italian genes. We were always industrious, always moving, it honed our bodies. All of us tall, svelte, hourglass figured, and sirens to the male of the species. For me, females too, and Amy was the perfect foil.
Our trysts turned aptitude into skill. Each time, we collapsed sated with delirious exhaustion. For weeks, I promised nothing less than a revolution and time earned her trust.
In a stretch under the fizzy water, it pulled my full breasts taut. Naked under the shower together, Amy watched transfixed.
“Come, wash me.”
Encouraging the endless suds, her unbroken caress wandered over every curve. Along both shoulders, from the top to bottom of each limb, she lingered on the heft of my bust. Taking her kiss, gathered into her arms, those nubile breasts pressed against mine.
As her first seduction, it brought an intense yearning to the fore. Her doey-eyes uncertain, the ranging caress loitered over the places I liked. From breasts to midriff, slippery fingers edged towards the rising heat.
She knew what to do and tended to the soaring need. Her simpering lips ripe for a kiss, reciprocated readily. Backing away, the cascade of water rinsed away the foam. Leant against the tiled wall, her trail of delicate kisses descended.
Always watching, a patient tongue, and mouth, honoured her teacher. The variations of touch attuned to every movement, every groan. Dissolving tension into euphoric pleasure, urgent gasps stiffened into echoic moans.
Her deftest touches provoked a soulful climax.
Rising to her feet, we embraced. Unhurried kisses provided the perfect dénouement.
“That was wonderful, Amy.”
She smiled, “I could not help myself.”
“You are such a beautiful woman and have come a long way. Tonight, let me show you how alluring you can be.”
Her moisturised hair shone, styled to accentuate the beauty of her face. The clothes we bought together designed to invoke the sensual not sexual. Make up highlighted the demure, not the incendiary. The motif of our relationship rested around her neck, a black pearl choker. Timeless in style, its three rows symbolised our arrangement.
Tonight, in a tight little black dress and silk lingerie, we would see how she fared in public.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
I chose my neutral expression. Whispered words painted images of lust; they laid Amy’s inhibitions bare. Rabid and suggestible, the insinuations of our shared kiss enflamed casual admirers.
A weekend adventure, miles from home, we went into bars and sought overt desire. Men formed a disorderly queue and thrust their worst ingratiations upon us. Deflecting them to Amy, it amused me how they objectified her. She sank at first then learned to swim with the sharks. The experience revealed the depths of her personality. Admiring her mind, in lust for her body, I taught her to beguile.
Amy flowered like the buds of spring. Over time, she tortured them with the wiles of her sexuality.
Driving home, a quiet country lane provided a fitting end to a tawdry night. Her generosity flowed through that gifted touch. She would earn her orgasm in any way I instructed. Fingers, tongue, to the endgame of Sapphic experience. Sex pressed to sex, writhing under a moonlit sky. Pawing and taunting each other until we convulsed with relief.
Her panties kept as a souvenir, sodden with her juices.
Returning to my husband, I taunted him with the taste of her sex. Regaling the night’s adventures, clasped tight to his rampant body, he fucked me. Our kink straightened out in this mind-bending assault of our bodies and senses.
Rising above me, open and available for him, we rose and fell in unison.
“Soon, I am taking her somewhere special where she can watch people fuck. Somewhere she can see and experience what she must do.”
His timbrous groans rose, swollen muscles tied to a standstill.
“She’s almost ready and you will fuck her like this.”
The walls of muscle snug around his girth. Flexing my hips, my aroused cunt goaded his climax.
“You will cum inside her.”
So wet, excited by Amy’s skilful touch, he yielded easily. His seed delivered with deep, throbbing pulses.
Collapsed into my embrace, soothed with a kiss, I flattened down his tousled hair.
This was my fantasy; Amy’s would be next.
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