« Tears | Home | Onward and Forward »
Legs
By Gray Lily | November 16, 2008
Michael knelt in front of me as I sprawled on my couch. My head was tucked next to the armrest and my bottom was barely on the edge of the cushion. He positioned himself at my knees and pushed my legs open as he leaned forward. I was fully clothed but nowhere near fully covered. My wide-legged stretch Capri pants slipped up to my thighs as he ran his hands over my skin and the zipper on my hoodie offered no resistance when he pulled it down.
His hands roamed over my thighs, teasing closer and closer to my cunt, building the arousal I’d been soaking in for the last hour on his lap. When his fingers finally brushed across my panties I gasped. My legs instinctively tried to come together in surprise.
Michael pressed his elbows to my thighs, laid his forearms along my legs, and resumed rubbing and teasing my cunt. My legs remained helplessly open. There was no way I could overcome the pressure of his arms and the weight of his shoulders behind them.
Rough fingers slipped inside my panties. Michael ignored my moans of embarrassment at being so openly fondled and slid a wet finger up to my clit. Just as I felt the tingle and heat of a climax starting he moved his finger back down and thrust it into my cunt.
My wriggling and twisting did no good, I was completely trapped. The thought of being forced to sit with my legs wide open and my cunt exposed, if only to his hands, made my cunt throb even more. I could hear my wetness under his fingers and the humiliation increased, building and revolving on itself.
His fingers alternated from clit to cunt until I was writhing and gasping for air. Then, just as suddenly as he had started, he withdrew his hands. I whimpered in desperation but he just leaned forward and wrapped my legs around his chest.
“Does that pussy feel all lost and abandoned now? Like it’s out in the wilderness and doesn’t know what to do?” he purred with mock concern, laying his hands around my waist.
“Yes Sir,” I whispered, trying to control my breathing and the heat in my crotch.
“Oh, poor pussy. And poor baby. What are you going to do?” he continued facetiously.
I didn’t answer, instead shaking my head and tipping my head back. When I could breathe normally I put my mouth close to his ear and took a deep breath.
“I really like the way I didn’t like having my legs held open like that,” I whispered.
“Being exposed and helpless? Only a dirty girl like you would like something like that,” he growled back at me.
“Yes Sir.” And so it begins. The words that burn like fire and go straight to my cunt.
Topics: Michael, cunt, humiliation |
November 17th, 2008 at 6:06 am
Gray Lily, I gather that Michael has your measure.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.
November 18th, 2008 at 1:20 pm
[...] Legs “I really like the way I didn’t like having my legs held open like that,” I whispered. [...]
November 29th, 2008 at 8:56 pm
There are far too many reasons I identify with this story. You know, I always think I’m kind of over-sensitive, like a little 3-lettered word shouldn’t overwhelm me, or a minor physical rearrangement. And then again, isn’t it wonderful when it does?