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Blog 8

Pippa needs comforting and it seems that I have been chosen ... lucky me
Blog 8

I don’t know if you remember; when I started writing Blog 7 I was going to tell you about “the palaver”, but somehow got distracted by Pippa and her Rampant rabbit and, after a little finger fluttering sojourn, I ended up recounting the remainder of that lovely evening her and I spent learning to love “Mr Shaft” together.

Which means that I really do need to tell you all about “the palaver”.

This web thingy really is most wonderful; I am constantly amazed that people from all over the world choose to read my uninspiring, silly little Blog and that some enjoy them enough to write comments or send me messages or even chat with me. It is most flattering and, being completely honest, I have found joy and pleasure in the company of strangers.

Though perhaps I shouldn’t admit that as it does make me sound a little whorish.

The downside, however, is that you never can be quite sure who might be reading your latest musings. Although I have been careful about my real world identity, like any good gossip these things circumnavigate the grapevine of whispered words and nudged innuendo, and there are probably more people who know who I am than I am aware of … or comfortable with.

And one of my regular readers, as became glaringly apparent, is Pippa’s hulking, taciturn, significant other; Jimmy.

Now the last time we saw Pippa she was rushing to her bedroom to run the batteries on her prettily eared rabbit dry before Jimmy got back from work and, even though it isn’t really my place and I shouldn’t be reporting things told to me in confidence, it does seem that either they were super-energiser batteries with far more va va voom than normal, or Jimmy had sneaked off work a little early. Needless to say, poor Pippa, lost in the gorgeous memory of fucking me quite senseless with the unnecessarily huge Mr Shaft, was a little beside herself when Jimmy sneaked into their house and caught her in flagrante; head lost in the pillows, thighs splayed, hips thrusting spastically as her floppy eared, vibrating friend tended to her cum splattered pussy.

Oh, and if I remember correctly; which I am quite certain I do; Pippa isn’t exactly the quietest little pleasure seeker there has ever been. So I’m sure you can add a fair amount of moaning, a few choice words … “Oooooo” and “Fuck me, baby” being particular favourites of hers … and perhaps the occasional screamed “Oh God” as her quivering, bucking body approaches its climactic peak.

Was Jimmy delighted to have pretty Pippa of the perfect arse so obviously in need of some loving attention already draped across their bed? No. Not in the slightest. Instead Jimmy did his impression of Zeus descending from Mount Olympus; all thunderbolts and lightning, stomped feet and overturned furniture, raised voice and rambling rants. And the upshot of such a scene; well about an hour later I answer a knock at the door to find a tear stained, mascara lined, dishevelled, shivering Pippa clutching her car keys, her blouse mis-buttoned, with incoherent sobs falling from her trembling lips.

Oh dear! Only one thing for it: a nice cup of tea.

So I sit Pippa down at the kitchen table, place a steaming hot mug of Yorkshire’s finest tea in front of her, pull up a chair alongside and, with one hand rubbing soothingly along her shoulders and the other being painfully squeezed by her somewhat larger one, I settle into attentive caring best friend mode as she sobs and weeps and sniffles safe in the comfort of my arms.

Now I am sure you don’t want to hear all of it verbatim because, believe me, once Pippa gets started it can be a little difficult to get her to stop. Certainly she was in no mood to hold anything back and what started as a brief recounting of her and Jimmy’s bedroom conversation; which mostly consisted of the words whore, wanker, slut, bastard, bitch and cocksucker; soon became a succession of double barrelled shotgun blasts about everything wrong with “that useless, limp dicked, twat”.

Oh, and just in case you are wondering, he’s “really fucking boring in bed” and it was “like sleeping with some fucking caveman” and he “wouldn’t know how to find my g-spot if I gave him a fucking map”.

And I do apologise for Pippa’s potty mouth, I know it is a little extreme, but I did want to give you a flavour of what I had to endure. So to cut through all the flim flam, the bottom line was that Jimmy had read my little Blog and having ruined Pippa’s fun with her favourite bunny proceeded to throw the “cheating whore” out onto the streets with the advice to “fuck off”, “go fuck that stuck up little bitch” and apparently a few choice pieces of advice involving the C word which I really am not going to repeat.

Though I think you’d be amazed at the sort of objects Jimmy thinks I could use to pleasure my pretty little pussy.

Eventually the fight, the anger, the fire and brimstone abated; gradually the words became less and the plaintive little sobs made Pippa’s body shake as it pushed into mine. I’m not very comfortable with other peoples’ tears and not a natural soother but I did my best; freed my trapped hand so that I could softly intertwine my fingers with hers, pressed her face into the warmth of my chest, allowed my fingers to tease along the nape of her neck and used them to comb through the somewhat tangled mess of her hair. All the while my mouth emitted pleasantries and platitudes as I felt Pippa’s pretty flesh trembling against me, as she dampened the fine cotton of my blouse with her tears until I felt it sticking to my skin.

At some point I kissed her; a soft, gentle peck atop her head as my fingers drifted along her quite prominent collar bone.

Finally the sobbing stopped and Pippa raised her tear smeared, quivering lipped face up so that once again we looked each other in the eyes. I felt her hand on my thigh; trembling fingers, sticky palm, the heat burning through the fine denier of my stockings, nails playing nervously along their lace tops. Pippa’s face was so close to mine that my eyes had difficulty focusing, her breathing still irregular across my skin, strange little sobs trapped in her throat, her moisture filled eyes unusually bright, her lips so close to my own, her fingers sliding down into the crevice between my slightly parted thighs.

I jumped when her lips descended; my body moving away from hers, my head turning so that the kiss landed half on lips and half on cheek, twisting in my chair making ready to flee as my heart instantly started pumping wildly and adrenaline coursed through my shaking limbs. Startled little me completely unprepared for this turn of events.

My phone, in my bag, on the worktop, started to ring.

In an instant I was out of my chair; two steps and my hand was delving in my bag, pulling out my chirruping mobile and, without looking at the caller ID, I pressed the correct button and answered the call.


“You fucking bitch”.

I rotated in my spot; turned back towards the table to where Pippa should be so that I might mouth “It’s Jimmy”, might gain some indication as to what I should do, what I should or shouldn’t say; but I never completed my turn, never caught Pippa’s gaze, never mouthed words and gesticulated with lips, eyes and hands because Pippa wasn’t there … she’s here, pressing into me.

I’m trapped in the right angled corner of the worktop; Pippa’s hand pressing firmly at the juncture atop my thighs, her body pushed into mine, lips tongue and teeth attacking my neck.

“This is your fucking fault”.

Strong insistent fingers probed at the smooth, slightly squidgy flesh atop my stockings; nails digging in causing my breath to catch in my throat as small tendrils of pleasure shot along the surface of my skin and encircle my instantly stiff clitoral nub as it peeks tentatively from beneath its protective hood.

“You and your stupid, fucking, snotty little Blog”.

Pippa’s fingers ran amongst my hair; digits entwining themselves amongst the fine strands, pulling down, making my chin rise as my mouth fell open and the skin on my neck reddened, flushed from my rapidly beating heart and shallow breathing. Her teeth nibbling up the highly sensitised, exposed skin behind my ear, her fingers pushing between my already dampened quivering thighs as they forced their way up towards the swollen, juicy delights of my pussy.

“I never trusted you”.

A moan trickled from my lips as Pippa’s nails grazed between my labia; parted them to reveal the soft, sodden trough between my tense clit and open, needy pussy. My eyelids drooped, half closing, sight slightly blurred, my body caught between the memory of Pippa and I; limbs entwined, sucking, licking and fucking each other to endless glorious orgasms; and the here and now, my thighs parting involuntarily, my arse cheeks clenched and svelte me lowering my aching drenched pussy down onto her long sensual fingers.

“And it’s all fucking lies. All made up. Just some slutty little fantasy”.

Pippa entered me; fingers spearing through the dripping, pulsing flesh into the madly squeezing canal beyond, then curling back in on themselves, nails running along my inner lining, knuckles pushing at the strong muscles between pussy and anus, tips dipping down into the slight hollow hidden beneath my stiff clitoris, seeking that orgasm inducing spot that she had found so many times before.

“Just because nobody wants you. Because nobody wants to fuck a poisonous dwarf like you”.

Pippa’s forceful caresses sent my petite frame spiralling as pulses of sensation spasmed along my quivering pussy walls, as my body writhed atop her beautiful fingers, as my tiny breasts and thick stiff nipples heaved violently beneath my tears dampened blouse, as my stomach clenched and my thighs began to shake uncontrollably, as the tension trapped inside my wonderfully filled sex thrummed desperate to be released across my entire body.

My eyes snapped open and, suddenly sighted once more, focused on the room before me. There, stood in the doorway, his perky little cock wrapped in his hot hand, tense, twitching, gorgeous moans coming from his slightly effeminate lips, is my Stephen.

Another torrent of abuse exploded in my ear as Pippa’s teeth bit deep into the taut flesh of my neck, as her fingers suddenly straightened and rammed themselves deep into the core of me driving my quaking body up onto tiptoes. Before me, Stephen’s hand suddenly paused mid-stroke, his body stiff, his face beetroot red, his arm visibly shaking, and then …

And then …

And then …

I screamed as I exploded. I screamed as Pippa’s fingers rammed their way repeatedly along the length of my sodden, spasming pussy. I screamed as Stephen’s swollen cockhead spurted his wonderfully thick, sticky cum in a beautiful arc to splatter down onto the kitchen floor. I screamed as my mobile fell from my twitching fingers to shatter at my feet. I screamed as I came, twitching and spasming, mounted on perfect Pippa’s wonderfully attentive digits.

Which is where I guess we will have to leave it for now, although there is perhaps a little more I might tell you next time should you choose to join me?

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.

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