Damsel

Damsel
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I ran into Star at the pool. Our apartment complex had three pools. It was one of those summer weekends when everyone I knew was doing something else, so I went to lounge in the sunshine, cool off in the water and read. And watch the swimsuited women. Bikinis have always been the best part of any swimming pool.

Star held the attention of two young men. When I arrived, she seemed relieved, as though my appearance had taken a weight off her. I didn’t know her that well but she acted as if we were old friends, even lovers. The two guys barely took the hint and only slowly moved away from the attractive woman but move away they did. When they left, Star leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she said. “I thought they’d never leave me alone.”

“Glad I could help.”

Star was fit, an athlete or dancer, tanned to a deliberate caramel, wearing a peach bikini bottom and half of a tank top. Her belly glistened with suntan oil.

She looked at me, appraising me, calculating, deciding. I’ve seen that look before, the intense gaze of a woman deciding that she was going to have me. Her body language changed. She leaned toward me, touched me. She waited on my words, prepared to laugh. Everything about her became attractive.

We started playing cards by the pool. “It’s too hot,” she complained, “Let’s go back to your place.”

“Sure,” I said and we bundled up our gear. She followed me back to the building and up the elevator.

I didn’t have much furniture so we sat on the floor, playing cards.

“It’s too hot,” she said and pulled off her tank top. Pale nipples darkened and hardened small as I stared for a bit. Trying to keep cool, I looked back to my cards and made a play. Star made a point of jostling and jiggling her boobs until there was nothing for me to do but stare, smiling and then laughing.

“I love being naked,” she said.

“Make yourself at home.”

“Let’s see your bedroom,” she said, jumping up and racing down the hall that led to my bedroom. She pushed the door open and with a squeal jumped into the middle of my waterbed. “I love it.”

“Thanks,” I said, walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed as she wriggled in my unmade sheets. I hadn’t expected company.

“I don’t like fucking as much as I like cumming,” she said with a mischievous smile.

I took that to mean she wanted her pussy licked. Some women hate cunnilingus; other women haven’t made up their minds but some women want a tongue between their labia more than all the cock in the world. I moved into position. Star tore off her bikini bottoms and spread her legs wide.

I know every sweet bit of an aroused cunt, the labia, the clitoris, the pressures and motions and hot spots deep inside. My tongue is pure muscle, capable of extended, extensive and endless lashing. My fingers started slowly taunting her unfurled lips, sliding into the depths, drumming and tickling her through a series of growing orgasms, slipping into her ass and sending her into convulsions of pleasure.

“So nice,” she said when I came back to the bedroom with a snack. “So what are you doing tomorrow?”

About Lord Malinov

Lord Malinov, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, swinging, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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