CHAPTER 37: The Virgin’s Valentines, Part 6
… I make a show of slurping and gulping loudly, as I clean away my pussy juices and the thin stream flowing from the slit.
“Now,” he says. “Open up.” And as I part my lips, he pushes inside.
I do my best with the huge member, stretching my jaws wide and taking as much as I can without gagging. I can do nothing; it is simply too large. I simply receive what is given to me.
My eyes rolling, I see my Master is watching with keen attention.
Still watching out for me?
I think so, yes. This could easily get out of hand, but I know he will not allow it.
“Try to suck if you can,” says Daniel. “I know it’s difficult for you. Just do your best.”
Borje, at my rear, is beginning to shudder. “Oh God, that looks hot.”
In the mirrors, he pumps at my ass, all the while watching Daniel feeding me his shaft.
Borje, very flushed, sweat streaming down his face, pauses in his pumping, looks skywards, then downwards, and with a groan, presses himself into me, hips quivering and grinding as he comes.
Daniel is very gently working his cockhead in my mouth. In and out he goes, while I suck and lick as well as I can. He fingers his shaft, squeezing and rolling it with a ringed thumb and forefinger. I wouldn’t have believed it possible, but the enormous organ swells even further, all but disabling my jaws, and my ability to anything but simply stay still, allowing Daniel to use my face and mouth.
His breathy panting is growing. I hear his drumming heartbeat. As the throbbing cock starts to pulse, at the last moment he pulls out of my mouth and cum shoots, sticky and white, over my face. I try to catch some with my lips, reaching out, but suddenly find myself pulled from behind, by Borje, upright into a kneeling position. The remainder of Daniel’s load splatters across my breasts and stomach.
Daniel regaining his breath, looking at me, gives me one of the widest, whitest smiles I have ever seen, and stroking the side of my face, says “Thank you Charlotte. That was amazing. Your Master is a lucky man.”
“Speaking of which,” comes my Master’s velvet tones. “I believe that makes it my turn.”
“She hasn’t called your card,” says the American who, sitting on the end of the bed, has been watching the entire display.
”King,” I say, immediately.
Did they seriously think that, with me dealing the cards, my Master would be holding anything but the King of Hearts?
He smiles and holds up the card for all to see.
Softly, he says, “Sit back Charlotte. Make yourself comfortable.”
I perch myself on the edge of the bed, propping myself on my elbows so that I can look down, watch my Master at his work. My first ever orgasm was gifted to me, by my Master, this way. It could have been the worst day of my life, but my Master made it the best.
He kneels between my legs and then, with his dark eyes, lambent in the candle-light, invites me to swing them over his shoulders. I settle myself, bare feet resting either side of his sinewy back.
My Master scents my sex, my sweat, my juices, and my pussy flutters as he tugs gently at my labia with his teeth. The heat of his breathing washes over my folds, and my clit twitches.
My heartbeat accelerating, he slips a finger into me, making a couple of short thrusts, gauging my reaction.
Lips a little parted with my panting, my face glowing, I watch my Master at his work, smiling widely in anticipation of what is to come.
He returns the smile, blowing me a kiss, and then, crooking the finger up inside me, he works my sweet spot. He knows me so well. The finger dances inside me, fox-trotting over my sensitised nerves and I fling my head back, moaning loudly.
My audience gathers around, watching a maestro at work. Michael is wonderful, and the rest are fun, but no-one knows me as does my Master.
Withdrawing the finger, he laps at my burning, brimming cunt, swirling through my inner muscles as they jump and skid and skip to his tune. He drives his tongue inside me, playing me like an instrument, and I howl out my rising climax.
My orgasm shatters through me, raw, primaeval and utterly delicious. The sheer intensity of it sends the blood singing through my brain. Flaming through me, pulses of heat radiate out from my blazing core, and my back arches as I shudder my climax into my Master’s waiting mouth.
He laps and sucks and slurps at my gushing juices, drinking me in for as long as I can stand it. Finally, I scream, “Enough Master! Enough.” He pulls away, wiping his mouth.
Looking pleased, he leans forward, swinging my legs free of his body, and pushes me smoothly back down to the bed, and thrusting hard, spears me with his cock.
My arms around his shoulders, his arms curved around my back in a tight embrace, we move together, my hips rocking with his movement as my Master and I ride the wave.
It won’t take long, I know. Already the tension in his body is rising, and as I look up into his face, I see the softness in his eyes that tells me he is all but ready. He reaches to kiss the pulsing vein in my neck, then rests his face there.
The feel of him inside me, as he thrusts, and as I arch and swing to take him, is warm, and fulfilling and, and...
He comes suddenly, with a quiet grunt as he presses deep into me. Tightly pressed together as we are, the spasms of his hips shudder through me. I hold him close, kissing him, stroking his hair as he pumps his climax into me.
When he has done, he remains still for a quiet second or so. The others in the room are silent too. They sense a special moment.
Then, making a sighing, pleasurable sound, he withdraws and stands, stretching and shaking, like a wet dog drying itself.
My Master looks down on me, a faint smile curving his lips. Bending, he kisses the top of my head and offers me a hand to help me stand.
He looks me up and down, with an amused expression. In the mirrors, I see myself; my hair a wild tumble, mascara running down from my eyes, my cum-bespattered tits, my dripping belly and thighs.
“Thank you, Charlotte,” he says in his deep, rich voice. “That was magnificent. And now, perhaps a shower?”
Later, cleaned up, dressed and respectable again, the Three having departed, I sit in the lounge, Michael and my Master to either side of me. A roaring fire adds balm to the mood of contented exhaustion. Michael has taken the opportunity to swing an arm around my shoulders and is holding me rather closely.
“You might check your bank balance tomorrow,” my Master says to me. “They were all very appreciative, and said that they will be happy to contribute to your College Fund anytime you are in town.”
“That’s good to know, Master. And thank you for arranging it, but you do understand that that is not why I do it?”
“Of course he does,” interrupts Michael. “We both do. But since we all enjoy it anyway, why not get some extra benefit for you from the fun? After all, that’s how all this started; so that you could earn some money to fund your future.”
“And on that note,” says my Master, “Let’s open some wine. We still have the rest of the weekend ahead of us, just the three of us…” he adds, winking at me. “Let’s relax and rest a bit. I suspect we will need it for tomorrow.”
He pours three tall flutes of sparkling champagne and we clink glasses. “To us.”
“To us.”
“To us.”