31. The League of Pussies
CHAPTER 31
The League of Pussies
ALISTAIR
I’ve never seen Ivy so warm and relaxed before. Thailand suits her. She really does seem up for anything, which makes my cock painfully hard. There is no better feeling in the world, no amount of money, no experience or material possession that can beat this. To have the sexiest woman alive, intelligent, independent, witty, ready for you—no, wanting you —to take her any way you like. It’s everything.
I moan just thinking about it, palms full of her tropical skin, and kiss her again before moving down to her luscious parts, sucking her nipples on my way down. Ivy continues to massage her tits as I make my way with featherlight licks to her belly and inner thighs.
Kneeling on the ground, I pull her toward me so that I can get a face full of pussy.
Fuck. I love Ivy’s pussy. I love the way it looks, the way it smells, the way it tastes. Especially now, when it’s dripping wet. I could eat Ivy out all day long.
Before I begin, I reach into my traveling bag of tricks—the neat zip-up for smaller sex toys I use for travel—and take out the Polaroid camera.
I take a picture of Ivy’s glorious pussy, wait a few seconds for it to develop, then pass it to her. She inhales in surprise—not quite a gasp—then giggles.
“Have you ever seen a prettier pussy?” I ask her.
“To be fair, I haven’t seen too many.”
“Well, I have,” I say.
“So boastful,” she teases.
“I’ve seen dozens of pussies and yours is over and above. It’s in a different league altogether.”
Ivy chortles. “The league of pussies.”
“Above the regular league of pussies,” I correct. I take another pic and pass it to her.
“Oh, yes, I see now,” she says, fanning herself with the first photograph as she studies the new one. “You have a point.”
I chuckle and lean in, lightly licking her clit. It makes her shiver.
“Ticklish,” she says. “I’m too turned on for that. I need it harder.”
“Yes ma’am,” I reply, more than happy to oblige. This time I place my whole mouth over her clit and suck, moving my lips and flat tongue in circles.
“That’s perfect,” she moans, breathless. “Oh my god. Please don’t stop.”
Yes, ma’am, I think, as I carry on. She’s already squirming, flexing, ready to come. It’s way too soon, so I slow down. I want to have her edging for a while.
Ivy takes the camera from my hand and snaps a pic of me going down on her. She shows it to me as I continue to lick and suck her. I groan right into her pussy, vibrating her clit, and she gasps at the sensation. Fuck, I want to demolish her.
I begin fucking her with my tongue while the tips of my fingers rub her juicy clit. Her breathing is ragged, her moans get louder as I force my tongue deeper into her. It’s so fucking hot that I get dangerously close to coming, just tasting the inside of her like that, feeling that satin skin on my tongue. I need to change the tempo or I’ll spoil the main event. I look up at Ivy, who has melted into the sun lounger, and then I suddenly know what to do next.
“Time to tick something off the list, beautiful.”
“Ooh,” she replies, a naughty spark in her previously glazed-over eyes. “And here I was thinking we’d just have regular sex.”
I snort. “Yeah, that’s probably never going to happen.”
“In that case, I shall set my expectations accordingly.”
I surprise her by jamming two fingers inside. I push them as far in as they’ll go.
“Fuck!” she cries, grabbing my shoulder. “Yesss.”
“That feel good?” I ask.
Ivy nods, wide-eyed, lips apart. “More.”
She certainly feels ready for more. “You’re so wet.”
“Don’t make me wait,” she pleads.
A third finger slides in easily. So warm and slick. I curl my fingers upwards to stroke her G-spot and Ivy cries out when I make contact.
“Oh my god,” she says. “Right there. Oh my god!”
I work slowly, stroking the area I know will make her squirt if she relaxes enough to allow it to happen. My thumb slowly works her clit as my fingers caress her inside. Wetter than ever, I’m sure she’ll come hard.
“Fuck,” Ivy gasps as I increase the pressure. “Are you going to make me squirt?”
I grin at her. “I’m going to try.”
She moans and throws her head back. I take a lop-sided picture of her with my free hand, then pick her and the towel up and move her a few paces over while she giggles at being carried. I place her gently at the base of the smooth stone shower, the towel offering some protection for her back, and tuck a lounger pillow under her head. I take down the showerhead, and, making sure the water is warm, I start spraying her body with it, taking care not to wet her face. When I see that she’s enjoying it, I turn up the pressure.
“That feels so good,” she says as I shower her limbs, her stomach, her breasts. I go under her arms, below her ears, under her feet while she sighs in pleasure. The water’s pressure and warmth are a good combination, and soon she is jelly again. She’s ready.