My First Time Tasting Beatrice: Nervous Thrill of Surrender
In our living room, that Saturday morning buzzed with tension. Still in my maid outfit, the frilly skirt barely hiding my caged cock and plugged ass, I stood there like an idiot. The tray of coffee cups shook in my hands from those damn 12cm heels. Hélène and Beatrice lounged on the Chesterfield, legs tangled, lips glossy from their kisses. My pulse hammered. Beatrice spread her thighs wide, gray skirt hiking up. White panties peeked, sheer and damp. ‘What are you staring at, you little slut?’ Hélène snapped. My cheeks burned. Fear knotted my gut—this was real now, no turning back. Beatrice’s eyes locked on mine, dark and commanding. ‘Come here, take off my thong and eat my pussy.’ Her voice, so crude, hit like lightning. I’d fantasized about her forever, that Penelope Cruz vibe, but this? On my knees before her? Heart thumping wild, I dropped. No escape. The air thickened with her musk. I was hooked.
Kneeling between her legs, fingers trembling, I hooked the thong’s edge. Silky bas clung to her thighs—self-holding, no garters. It slid down slow, revealing her perfect landing strip, lips glistening. First whiff of her arousal made my mouth water. Caged dick strained uselessly, plug shifting deep. I leaned in, tongue tentative on her slick folds. Salty-sweet explosion. She moaned, ‘Good girl, keep going.’ My heart raced faster, nerves firing everywhere. Clit swollen under my laps, her hips bucked. Hélène watched, fingering herself. Beatrice grabbed my hair, grinding my face in. I licked harder, sloppy, inexperienced—first pussy besides Hélène’s. Juices smeared my chin. She tensed, thighs clamping, flooding my mouth as she came. Gasps echoed. Dizzy rush.
The Approach: Heart Racing Anticipation
Freed, face slick, she purred, ‘Now your wife.’ Switched to Hélène, her familiar taste mixed with Beatrice’s lingering tang. Tongue diving deep, sucking her clit. Then—hands on my skirt. Beatrice yanked the plug out with a pop. Emptiness. Then pressure, bigger. ‘Relax, Natacha. I’ve dreamed of fucking a sissy like you.’ Her strap-on, thick, lubed, pushed in. I whimpered into Hélène’s pussy, ass stretching fire-hot. First time filled like that—deeper than any plug. She thrust slow, building. Fullness overwhelmed, prostate throbbing. No hands, but I leaked pre-cum. Hélène begged, ‘Finger me!’ Slid one in, she shattered, squirting on my tongue. Beatrice sped up, slapping my cheeks. ‘Fuck, you’re tight.’ Her orgasm hit again, hips jerking. Mine built weird—no erection, just prostate milk. I came hands-free, mess soaking my thong. Pulled off, she spun me: ‘Lick it clean.’ Salty ass-taste on the dildo, I sucked like a whore. Innocence? Gone.
Hélène laughed, ‘Such a slut—you’d love real cock soon.’ Lifted my skirt, saw the cum mess. ‘Reward time.’ But Beatrice sucked first, cleaning my spent dick. ‘Mmm, first cum taste—salty good.’ Soft now, no boner. Hélène sneered, ‘Can’t even get hard for her? Pathetic.’ Humiliation stung, but Beatrice defended: ‘Let her rest.’ They dressed sexy—Hélène’s red lips, pencil skirt; Beatrice’s slit dress flashing thigh. ‘Clean up, make lunch. Back by 1.’ Heels clicked away. Alone, sticky, ass sore, I trembled. That first plunge into their world—nerves exploded into bliss. No more just fantasy. Natacha was born, innocence fucked away. Craved more already.
