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Call me Pixie: part Four

The second orgasm

She rolled to the side of me, pulling to her, enfolding me between her glorious breasts. I felt so safe and warm. She hugged me, tight. I sighed.

‘I love the way my little Pixie sighs. I could become very fond of you, you flat-chested midget.’

From somewhere deep between her breasts, I murmured something about being exquisitely happy. Two hours earlier, I had not known Emily existed. Back then I had been a ‘normal’ young woman. Now I had been transformed. I liked it. I had no idea where this was going, but if it involved being lost in her cleavage, I was going there – and damn the consequences.

‘Now, dirty little Pixie, you will show me what sort of cunt-licker you are. Scoot down and eat me.’

I always called my genitalia my ‘pussy,’ the ‘c’ word was taboo for me. That gave her words an extra frisson. I obeyed.

I slid my slender form down her body, kissing her nipples before I left her breasts. I licked and nibbled down her tummy. She was salty. Her efforts with me had made her sweaty. If there is one thing I like, it is a sweaty woman.

I wriggled my way to her smooth mound, with little velvet-tongued licks all the way down. Emily was moaning. She would be doing a lot more of that.

Parting her thighs, I could see, to the right, the discarded feeldoe, but it had left its mark. Her cunt was open where the bulb had been inserted. She had full, fleshy lips, swollen with desire. Her cunt glistened with juice. Her inner lips were red from the insertion of the girl- cock, her lips pushed apart, unevenly.

I applied my wet, velvety tongue to her swollen lips, then, with my mouth, sucked them together. In so doing, I rubbed her clit with her own cunt lips; I love it, and her moans said she was too.

Then, breathing on her clit, I pushed it back with my tongue, rubbing it in a circular fashion. The tip of my tongue played with it for a few minutes; her cunt was getting wetter. So I sucked her clit as though it was a tiny cock (not that I have ever sucked cock, but I can guess the principle). She moaned louder.

As I sucked, my lips firmly clamped on her engorged clit, my tongue flicked her bud. Slowly, purposefully, I curled two fingers into her already opened cunt; they slid in, meeting no resistance. At the same time, my thumb slipped against her rosebud hole, already wet from her cunt. I pushed.

‘You dirty little Pixie!’ She gasped, moaning continuously now.

‘Pixie is a bad girl Miss, spank Pixie’s bum later.'

‘I fucking will you little tart.’

My fingers slid into her faster now. Her juices were thickening, her cunt clenching.

My teeth grazed her clit. Then, I bit it, only gently, but firmly. At the same time my fingers and thumb worked her holes. The result was what I wanted.

‘Fuck, you dirty bitch, fuck, I am coming!’

I felt her asshole and her cunt clench my fingers. She squirted into my face, drenching me. I would smell of her all day now. I luxuriated in the feeling. I had given her pleasure. In itself, that was almost enough to give me an orgasm. I loved to please.

There is a moment, in the immediate aftermath of giving your lover an orgasm, where the world seems perfect. Her wetness on me, the warmth of her body, all induced a feeling of well-being. I loved feeling her body quiver and shake.

Suddenly I was seized by her hands. She hauled me up to her breasts, planting my face firmly between them. Looking up I saw her smile.

‘Fuck, you are a dirty little Pixie. I usually take ages to come, but you brought me off in record time. Where the fuck did you learn to suck cunt like that?’

I smiled as I looked up, cushioned on her ample breasts, feeling warm and protected.

‘When you are as petite as I am, Miss, you learn how to please your lovers.’

‘Well, you little cunt-licker, I wish you were my panties, I’d love to rub on you all day.’

So saying, she pushed my head between her breasts. I could smell her scent – and mine. I felt as though I could almost pass out. The more she smothered me, the sexier I felt. It was the helplessness, the thought that there was nothing I could do to resist her. Oh, and the feel of her soft breasts.

‘Pixie,’ she said, ‘how long are you staying here?’

She held me close.

‘Two more days, Miss, for the duration of the concert.’

‘Well, get me those tickets. I want you to meet a friend of mine in the morning.’

‘Miss?’ I was puzzled.

She held me so close I could feel her heart beat.

‘She’s a rich American, and she shares my tastes in music – and other things.’

‘And what if I object to being shared, Miss?’

‘Do you?’ She asked bluntly.

‘No Miss.’

‘Good girl.’

She patted me on the head. I purred.

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