The Basement part II Chapter 13
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The movie started with a boy and a girl of similar age, neighbours and best friends, growing up together in a small East European country. Just before they reached their teens, the boy’s family had to move away because of his father’s job. Then the girl lost her parents and her home when a gas main exploded. The pair lost touch when the girl was shunted around between orphanages and foster homes.
Several years later, when the pair were in their early twenties, they both ended up working in the country’s capital city. The boy/man had become a police officer and, while the girl/woman had landed a respectable day job as PA to a company director, she was also a leading member of an anti-government anarchist group, plotting revenge on the regime that had classed the gas explosion as an unavoidable accident, rather than the result of neglect, in order to avoiding paying compensation. The woman had an androgynous look with short-cropped blonde hair and a boyish figure. I wondered whether that played any part in Joanna’s decision to watch it, thinking it might be more acceptable to me if the two characters both had a masculine appearance.
While we were watching the movie, Joanna frequently sipped her Champagne. A couple of times she refilled her glass, but I declined her offer to top up my own glass.
As the movie progressed, the couple had a serendipitous encounter and recognised each other immediately despite the decade apart. Both single, they resumed their friendship and eventually took it to the next level. The love-making scene that followed appeared so realistic that it looked as though the pair were actually having sex on camera. And naked, the actress revealed her fantastic, lithe body with perfect smallish breasts. My robe developed an unfortunate tent but there wasn’t anything I could do to hide it, short of putting a pillow over my crotch or lying on my stomach.
I looked at Joanna to see whether she had noticed my discomfort. She seemed utterly intent on the love-making scene playing out in front of us, but her hand was inside her robe at crotch level and making little circular movements. Belatedly I detected a faint musky scent in the air, and realised Joanna was discreetly pleasuring herself.
I moved my hand over to where Joanna’s wrist entered her robe. “Allegedly it’s better if someone else does it for you,” I said. “Mind if I help?”
Joanna looked at me, her flushed face a kaleidoscope of mixed emotions; fear and embarrassment at having been found out, uncertainty and nervousness at my offer, plus lust and desire. She didn’t speak.
I knew I was on slightly dodgy ground but, taking the lack of as refusal as consent, I gently slid my hand underneath Joanna’s robe. If she said ‘no’ or ‘stop’ I intended to retract it immediately, but Joanna seemed to be holding her breath. I encountered the smooth warm flesh of Joanna’s stomach and worked my way down towards her own hand, carefully feeling my way. I didn’t encounter any hair. When my fingers met Joanna’s, I gently nudged them out of the way. Still no protest. Navigating by touch, I felt my way around Joanna’s pussy, the meaty outer lips, the hint of moist inner lips and then, at the top, my searching finger brushed the prominent, not-so-little stub of Joanna’s clit. Joanna sucked in a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” I asked, gently teasing my finger around Joanna’s clit.
She didn’t reply; I wasn’t sure she could. I trailed the finger back down to Joanna’s pussy lips and, without trying to penetrate her inner lips, I lubed up my fingertip with her juices. Joanna released the breath she had taken. I moved my slimy finger back to Joanna’s clit and resumed teasing it. A subtle, barely discernible motion of her hips resulted in her pressing back against my finger, a request for more pressure that I was happy to oblige.
Joanna was breathing again, but it was shallow and ragged. After my next pass round her clit, I stopped and gave the tiny organ a stroke.
“Uuuh!” moaned Joanna, her whole body tensing.
I wasn’t sure but I didn’t think she had orgasmed so I traced my moist finger round Joanna’s clit before giving it another stroke. Each time I repeated the process Joanna moaned for longer, and I reckoned she was getting close.
More teasing followed by another clit stroke and, “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh,” moaned Joanna as she came, with her stomach muscles rhythmically contracting and her thighs clenching firmly together.
It was several long moments before Joanna came back down to earth enough to speak. “You were right,” she said a broad smile. “It is better when someone else does it for you.”
I extracted my hand from inside Joanna’s robe. My finger was glistening with Joanna’s lubrication. I put it in my mouth and sucked it clean: slightly salty, slightly sweet, very mildly tangy and definitely not fishy.
“So what do I taste like?” asked Joanna curiously.
“Better than Champagne,” I said, quite truthfully.
Joanna snorted with laughter and I couldn’t stop myself from joining in.
“I’d like to taste it direct from the source,” I said, and moved to part Joanna’s robe.
“No!” she shrieked, pulling the robe tightly closed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m ugly,” complained Joanna. “My thighs are like tree trunks and my legs are scarred where football opponents have done unladylike things to me.”
I put my hand on the one Joanna was using to keep her robe closed. “Joanna,” I said, looking her in the eye. “My sister Terri is an awesome gymnast. She has very muscular thighs and I think they look fantastic. Being a sportswoman, I bet yours are similar. And Terri has plenty of scars too: she’s had her fair share of falls.” Actually that last part was not exactly true: Terri had a terrific sense of balance resulting in remarkably few falls. However those had resulted in a couple of faint scars.
Joanna stared back at me, then almost imperceptibly nodded. “You can look at my legs,” she said, “but I’ll decide how much of them you can see.” She grabbed both sides of the robe at crotch level and held them tightly together.
I took that as an invitation and scooted downwards, nudging Joanna’s ankles apart and causing her robe to part to just above her knees. I have to be honest and admit that Joanna’s feet were as unattractive as my own. Runners don’t have nice feet because they develop patches of hard skin, better than having soft skin prone to blistering. Footballers have additional problems because of their repetitive kicking of the ball.
Joanna’s muscular calves were a different matter. Protected by socks and shin pads while she played football, they were flawless. I couldn’t help running my hands over the smooth skin, feeling the hard muscles underneath.
It wasn’t until virtually at knee level that I saw the first scar, a three quarter inch long white streak. I leaned down and kissed it; Joanna didn’t object. Pushing up the hem of the robe as I went, I made my way up Joanna’s legs, kissing the scars as I went. There weren’t that many so each time I crossed to the companion leg and kissed its equivalent spot just to be fair. Maria had liked having her legs kissed and Joanna seemed to be enjoying it too.
It wasn’t until I was well past Joanna’s knees and encountering very impressive thigh muscles that I realised she still hadn’t stopped me. Thankfully for Joanna, there didn’t seem to be any more scars so I kissed her thighs at random points that seemed to me to be deserving. The musky smell became stronger and, as I flipped the hem of Joanna’s robe up a little further, her pussy came into sight. Visual inspection confirmed what my sense of touch had originally told me: she was completely clean-shaven, and she had a very pretty pussy with the inner lips, now glistening with juices, only just visible. Her prominent clit was on full display, standing proud of its hood.
Despite the awkward angle, I kissed my way up Joanna’s inner thighs until I reached her pussy, where I kissed the moisture showing on her her inner lips. A gentle sigh showed that Joanna was aware of how far I had got and was comfortable with it.
“Hand me a couple of pillows,” I said to Joanna. I wanted to worship Joanna’s pussy properly but the angle was wrong, exacerbated by the hotel bed being softer than Maria’s so bodies sank deeper. Fortunately pillows seemed to be plentiful in this hotel room.
Joanna handed me a couple of pillows, confirming that she was still comfortable with what I was doing. When prompted, Joanna pulled up her feet for leverage, leaving her knees in the air, and raised her ass off the bed. I quickly stuffed the pillows underneath and Joanna lowered herself again. Then kneeling between her upright thighs, I used my fingers to part her pussy lips. There was no remaining evidence of Joanna’s hymen, although I had suspected that might be the case considering her sporting activities.
Geraldine
- 23.07.2020
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