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The Cunning Linguist and the Other 'Ingus'

A long time fantasy realized...
For as long as I can recall, I’ve always had a fantasy of having a woman, dressed in magnificent lingerie and tall heels, squat over my face as I minister to her goodies. I have always loved pictures of women squatting while dressed to the nines in expensive undergarments and sexy, sleek heels.

I had met Samantha at the rehearsal dinner the night before. It was a casual cookout. She appeared to be fortyish, with long red hair, worn down, but full and stylish.

The wedding was set to take place on the beach. I was occupied with holding my youngest granddaughter. Samantha and I made eye contact from opposite sides of the “aisle” and she made an “Aw” expression with her face at the cuteness of my granddaughter.

We ran into each other while retrieving our shoes from where everyone had checked them to walk onto the beach for the service. I provided a shoulder for her to balance herself while putting her sexy heels back on. She thanked me profusely and we retreated into the hotel to avail ourselves of the open bar and hors d’oeuvres.

We had both had about three drinks each while mingling about waiting for all the ritual photos. We ran into each other again and commented on the long wait. We both admitted that we needed use of the facilities at the same time and had a laugh at the coincidence. Wanting to go to our respective rooms in the hotel to freshen up a bit and skip the public restrooms in the lobby, we headed through the lobby. She offered for me to use the facilities in her room as she was just down the hall, while my room was a few floors up.

I accepted her gracious offer and escorted her to her room. As we walked, I complimented her on her outfit and her magnificent long legs. Her legs were, however, very pale being a red head and she had flown in from up north. She blushed a little and mentioned that she wanted to put on some stockings to cover her milky white legs, explaining that because the service was barefoot on the beach she had felt a little self-conscious of her fair-skinned legs.

I told her she had nothing to worry about and reiterated that she had magnificent legs, stocking clad or not. She excused herself to use the bathroom and I waited for my turn. We exchanged places and I went to use the toilet. I must have been a little quicker than she expected as I came out to see her with her second stocking about three quarters of the way up her thigh. I must have gasped at the sight because she asked, “You like?”

I replied, “I love all of it, the legs, the stockings, and I can only imagine the rest.”

She finished pulling the top of her hold-up stocking into place, giving me a view of not only her complete thigh, but the bottom of her cute, perfectly shaped derriere. If she was wearing panties at all they must have been a thong, as I saw no evidence of them at all.

I blurted out, “Oh my, that looks delicious! Whatever they’re serving for dinner won’t hold a candle to that, I’m sure,” the alcohol having melted my usual shyness. I added, “And I didn’t see any panties. Might I assume you’re wearing a thong?”

She blushed and then gave a wry smile as she said, “I can’t stand the way thongs feel in my butt crack, and so I didn’t wear any panties because my skirt is so sheer. And the ocean breeze felt wonderful, um, down there.”

She slipped into her shoes as I watched, my head reeling at the thought of her without any panties.

“Samantha, I’m wondering if possibly you would do me a huge favor,” I stammered.

“And what might that be,” she inquired.

“Well, I’ve always had this fantasy…” I hesitated.

“I…I’ve always had this fantasy of…having a woman in heels…well…squat over my face.”

“Oh, really,” she said rather matter-of-factly. “And you’d like me to do that for you? And then what, you dirty old man?” she giggled.

“Well…I suppose at that point, I’d have to show my appreciation.”

She considered this for a second and then said, “Sounds interesting. Lay down on the floor then. Hors d’oeuvres are served,” she said sexily.

Wow! I couldn’t believe this was happening. I got down on the floor and she straddled my head, raised her skirt and squatted over me. I was in heaven. She was facing my feet and with her four inch heels, her womanly bits were just above my face. I inhaled deeply taking in her heady feminine scent. I moaned at the smell of her delicious aroma. I kissed her gently on her nether lips and then she moaned, also.

I ventured farther and reached up to her clitoris and licked all the way down her smooth labia. At that point I continued to ply her puss with my tongue as her flower continued to open. She adjusted herself some to get a little lower which allowed me better access to her delectable treats. It also placed her perfect, pink rosebud right on the end of my nose. It also smelled wonderful.

I reached up and parted her milky white globes and ran the tip of my tongue into her back door. I continued to work her asshole and she started to grind her clit on my chin.

“Oh my god,” she uttered, “that’s so deliciously filthy. I love it.”

She had to drop to her hands and knees as her orgasm washed over her.

After gaining her composure, we had to scramble to clean up and get back to the reception. We had to wait for the bride and groom to make their entrance and then sneak in behind them.
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2014 Perimedes

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