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J.B. spills a little cum.....

2:43 pm Wednesday, 27th November, 2013

J.B. did not approve of my working in the builder’s yard. She said that it was a waste and that my mind would soon ‘atrophy’ (that’s a university education for you – the vocabulary expands so quickly). She did, however, concede that the effect it was having on my body was not so hard to bear. Still, when she returned that summer, she was unable to disguise her disappointment that I had not yet settled on a ‘vocation’.

When J.B. was not playing the submissive cum-slut she could actually be quite… motherly. It was a contrast that always made me smile. I told her that I simply hadn’t decided what to do with the rest of my life and that, until I did, the builder’s yard would keep me from starving. I had, I assured her, continued with my reading and was even writing a little, and, anyway, it wasn’t really her concern.

To keep her amused I told her of my continuing encounters with Christine H.

‘And you still haven’t let her taste your cum…?’ she interjected, as was telling her of my fifth encounter with the delicious Miss H.

‘To be honest… she hasn’t asked again… not since that first time. Maybe she knows that when she does that will be the end of it.’

I shrugged my heavy shoulders and heaved J.B. onto the bed – she had not lost any weight at University but, somehow, seemed much lighter than I remembered. When I had arranged her limbs to my satisfaction (and to her increasing delight) I presented her with the gift I had constructed just for her. While I had not yet acquired the skills necessary to fashion that skipping rope dildos that would please her so much in later years, I was, even then, sufficiently adept to make a set of little bondage ‘stocks’. I had constructed these wooden restraints from mahogany (if is light and strong) that I had found around the yard. One of which could be fixed around her ankles – securing legs at some distance apart. By a simple arrangement of a pulley set in the ceiling and a length of cord looped through a ‘eye’ on the ankle stock I could then easily hoist J.B.’s legs upwards. Similarly a wrist stock performed the same function with J.B.’s arms so that her body then formed what could only be described as a living hammock. The bed still bore the bulk of J.B.’s weight and the ankle and wrist fixings were well padded. While there was some discomfort involved that was not the purpose of the exercise. Rather it was the manner in which this form of bondage left J.B. completely vulnerable.

J.B., who had gasped with delight when she saw what I had made for her, and she wriggled now with something close to a religious ecstasy when she was at last hoist into position. She was still fully clothed (and dressed very much like the typical student) when I secured her, and she did seem a little confused by that. Less confused when her leggings had been roughly pulled (up) to her ankles and her tie-die top unceremoniously drawn up over her breasts. With an equal lack of ceremony I uncapped her big breasts from her bra and so she was untidily exposed at last.

‘Do you want to taste my cum?’ I taunted.
Before she could answer I strapped her inner thighs with a wooden ruler that I had purchased for just this very purpose. Over the period of our… experiments… we had never quite found the perfect instrument with which to ‘punish’ J.B. and so drive her pleasures ever forward. Something indelicate enough to provide the pain that J.B. had grown to find so… essential, and yet delicate enough to be applied even to the lips of her cunt and not so heavy that it might cause actual damage to her clitoris. We both knew, instantly, that the wooden rule was going to work perfectly.

Absence (J.B. had been gone for months) certainly appeared to make the cunt (if not the heart) much fonder. Before my eyes J.B.s cunt became so swollen that the inner lips of it actually began to unfold without my even brushing so much as my breath across them.

‘You are having your period,’ I observed.

The little wetted blue string that clung now to her outer lips was not an ambiguous sign.

J.B. almost stopped then. Her body stiffened, not against the potential sting of that wood, but against the possibility (I immediately deduced) that I might not wish to continue while she was mid-flow. To reassure her I took hold of the string, and as I pinked her lips with little blows I slowly tugged until her tampon was free of her. As it began to emerge J.B. convulsed. The relief that our activities were to continue, combined with the continued application of that perfect little instrument sent J.B. hurtling over the edge of that now familiar precipice. She convulsed so powerfully that she almost effortless lifted her hips from the bed and looked for a moment as though she was impaling herself on some huge invisible cock some twelve or eighteen inches above the mattress. And as she fucked the air she gushed – as she would, at times – and sprayed little specs of fem cum and blood over my sheets.

When she was settled again and content I let her take my cock into her hot mouth and permitted her to utilise the all the exquisite skills of her tongue on the tip and shaft of me. I, as is my nature, resisted for as long as could but… eventually.. I relented and allowed J.B. to taste what was still forbidden to the pretty Miss H. Perhaps because I had been denying myself that particular pleasure for so long I came more powerfully than I normally would.. and more heavily so that, despite J.B.’s efforts to swallow some spilled out over her lips and ran down her cheeks and chin.

A little later, cum still staining her mouth, J.B. said that she was glad to be ‘home’ again, and asked me if I intended to allow Christine H to taste me any time soon?

‘I had intended to cum in her mouth tomorrow,’ I said.

‘But now I may wait a little longer. The urgency has somehow… faded.. for the moment.’

J.B. smiled with her cummy lips and congratulated me on my wisdom.

 7 people like this

4:16 pm Wednesday, 27th November, 2013

Im sure your building experience has come in handy ....knowing how to create and make your designs. Always good to have a man about who is good with his hands....good job you didnt let your brain atrophy either or you would not be able to pleasure us with your afternoon delights (the longest word in the thesaurus to mean the same as delights seems to be gratifying)

 2 people like this

4:35 pm Wednesday, 27th November, 2013

gratifications might just clip that one.. but i would prefer... entertainments...

 1 people like this

5:05 pm Wednesday, 27th November, 2013

entertaining verse....yes...probably better.. i didnt gratify myself today though....

So since we are jumping about a bit from one experience to the other and obviously this is your story and we the readers are following it....well i am anyway.... So i have questions....

JB did you meet her before or after CH did she go to school with you or was she a neighbourhood friend? Was she your first? When did you first realise vanilla wasnt your flavour?

I am actually in such the wrong frame of mind to read a book at the moment so the only reading i am doing is each chapter of your blog so it is definitely entertaining. In that it is very interesting...you have a very unique way of writing things

 1 people like this

10:43 pm Wednesday, 27th November, 2013

the order of all this is far from chronological - in fact all been a little haphazard. So far just recounted things as they occurred to me each time i write... little bites from all over really. if at some point it seems that there might be a whole 'cake' here - and not just a scatter of crumbs - then i would very likely proof read properly - edit - and post again... but as a single continuous narrative.... (not quite there yet.. ) until then.... ! ? ! probably progress as i am..... confusing as that is...

 1 people like this

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