My First Time Devouring Her in the Psychic’s Bedroom
The air hung thick in Mme Robert’s cramped bedroom. Faded floral wallpaper peeled at the edges. A double bed sagged under faded photos of her dead husband. Sophie lay naked there, arms spread like a sacrifice, thighs clenched tight. White gooey paste smeared her bronzed skin in a huge cross—from her heaving tits down to her belly. Camphor stench burned my nose. My heart hammered. This was it. No turning back.
Ludmilla chanted bullshit Latin from her moldy grimoire. Sophie squirmed, nipples hardening into fat bullets under the slick layer. I’d never seen her like this. Chatty, ticklish Sophie, now flushed, aroused. Exhibition kink? Public eyes on her pussy? My cock twitched. Jealousy boiled with lust. I’d been a shitty lover. Never ate her out right. Always rushed to fuck. Now, her challenge hung: ‘Lick me, you idiot!’ In front of this fake psychic. Fear clawed my gut. What if I sucked? What if she laughed? But her eyes begged. Desperate to fight the demon. My throat dried. Pulse raced in my ears. I knelt between her raised thighs. No escape.
The Tense Approach
Her scent hit first—musky, ripe. Thighs parted slow, revealing swollen pink lips glistening. First touch: lips brushing inner thighs. She shivered. I kissed higher, clumsy pecks. Fingers parted her folds. Sticky nectar coated them. Heart thundered. Unknown territory. Dipped nose in, smeared her juice. Salty-sweet tang exploded. Tongue flicked tentative—her clit pulsed. She gasped. Bullseye. Dove in harder. Lapped broad strokes. Her hips bucked. ‘Fuck,’ I thought, ‘this is her.’ Tits jiggled above the white paste. Ludmilla watched, eyes hungry. Crowd fueled it. Sucked her nub. Slurped her hole. Tongue-fucked deep. Sophie gripped my hair, crushed my face. Nose buried in her bush. Thighs clamped my ears—plop of suction. Gnnniii! Her screams pierced. Climax hit. Body convulsed. Flooded my mouth. First taste of her soul. Raw, primal rush. My dick throbbed untouched.
She released. Plop. Ears rang. Cyprine dripped from chin. Wiped it off. Met Ludmilla’s stare—admiring, pitying. No apocalypse cavalry. Just us, spent. Sophie panted, eyes glassy. I’d unlocked her. No more innocent wife. Salope? Nah. My fault for ignoring. Heart slowed. Pride swelled with ache. Innocence gone—hers, mine. Knew her depths now. Clumsy first licks changed everything. Tension eased into glow. But demon loomed. We’d fight on. Tighter now. Her hand found mine. Promise of more. Real hunger ahead.
