Thursday, November 19, 2009

"The Pussyholic"

“The Pussyholic”

by Julius
Copyright November 2009

Pussyholic, that would describe him quite well he thought. His meeting with Suzanne was therefore fortuitous for both of them.

She had a pussy that craved attention. A neglected pussy, neglected for twenty-eight years and several months or at least lacking the attention it deserved. That was the way she saw it.

Simon’s love and fascination for the female pubic area was, as he saw it, perfectly normal. A cunny gave him and his cock, exquisite pleasure so he thought it only right and natural to repay in kind. He wondered if he fixated too much on the oral pleasuring but nobody ever complained.

They met at a book signing. He wrote novels with a strong erotic theme. His publisher arranged the signings; it was part of the contract. Simon attended them philosophically. Most of the people who came to the signings were women and he couldn't help enjoying their blushing enthusiasm for his creations. But now, three hours into the four-hour session, he was looking forward to making his escape. He glanced at the clock, fifty-five minutes to go and the flow of people had slowed appreciably. Maybe he would get away on time.

He looked up as another book was slid in front of him. "Hi," he said.

"Hello," she said. "Suzanne, can you write, 'To Suzanne,’ please?"

He smiled and opened the front cover. It was a well-worn, hard-back copy, probably second hand. Yes, there was a pencilled-in, reduced price in the corner of the front cover. She was tall and brown haired and maybe a little overweight. His heart gave a little bump. She was rather lovely. She wore a skirt, he liked that, skirts were getting ever rarer he thought a little sadly.
He wrote, 'To Suzanne, with love, Simon H.’ He always added the 'with love,' if he found the woman attractive.

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Oh yes!" the words came out as a near silent breath.

Simon picked up the book to hand it back but noticed a protruding bookmark. He opened the book and smiled.

He glanced up. She was blushing scarlet. "I see we have the same favourite part."

She started to speak, hesitated and then said in a rush, "I fantasise about your reading that to me aloud." Her hand flew to her mouth, her embarrassment obviously acute.

"I'm flattered, I'd love to read it to you," he said. He realised too late he'd spoken rather in haste.

He sat and signed the occasional book while she browsed the shelves through the store. He realised that he had a date of sorts at eleven o'clock. The hands crept round towards closing time. He looked around. She was sat in a chair, in a corner, reading.

The shop manager phoned for a cab and waited with them as the remaining staff went about closing up.

He got her a wine and himself a beer. "I've only dated a reader once before."

"How was it?"

"A disaster." He laughed, remembering. "But I didn't read to her."

"Are you going to read to me?"

"I said I would."

Suzanne crossed to the sofa and sat down, book in one hand, wine in the other. Simon followed her, took the book from her and sat in the armchair facing her.

He put his beer down on the table at his elbow and opened the book at the bookmark. He read the first few lines to himself and glanced up at her. It hit him then that she was dressed just like the girl in his book. A lacy white blouse and a black skirt that showed her knees. She wore hose and black pumps with maybe three-inch heels. He felt his cock stirring.

He began to read aloud. To his delighted surprise she did exactly as the story told. She crossed her legs, right knee over left and almost imperceptibly began tensing and relaxing her thighs. Her hips squirmed slightly. He could see the back of her right thigh to the point where it met the sofa's cushion. More to the point he could see that she wore stockings, the dark top contrasting with white flesh. Now his cock was more than stirring.

Suzanne's eyes were closed as she listened. She didn't realise how obvious was the movement of her thighs as she worked them, one against the other. But she was aware of what the movement was doing. She'd been horny forever it seemed. She'd denied herself release ever since she'd read of the book signing but now she was riding a wave as his voice read. How often had she read this chapter of the book, followed word for word, action for action, always reaching the same exquisite conclusion. But his books were like that, incredibly erotic. Then, the chance to meet the author of so many of her orgasms.

Her climax was approaching, uncoiling inside her like a tight-wound spring. He stopped reading; she stopped moving and opened her eyes. He was staring at her, smiling.

'Oh God,' she thought, 'he knows I'm doing it.'

Blushing she uncrossed her legs and sat, feet on floor, knees together.

Struggling for composure she said, "I'm sorry, please go on." She gestured at the book.

She longed to get her hand up her skirt, to finish what she'd started. God! She was so horny.

He began to read again. She listened, he read very well, unhurried, his phrasing somehow bringing out the meaning so well.

She moaned softly as he reached the part where the girl in the story slid down in the sofa causing her skirt to ride up and expose her thighs, her panties. Damn it! She could hardly do that, could she?

Her eyes met his. He stopped reading again and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. His meaning couldn't have been clearer: 'Was she going to follow the story or not?’

She gasped, shocked, realising he did actually want her to act out the story. Suzanne almost shook her head, almost said no. But she did neither. This was why she’d gone to the signing. Gone with the silly, futile, dream-world hope of just this happening.

She eased forward, moving her ass across the cushion towards him. The fabric held her skirt and slowly more and more leg emerged. She glanced down; there were her stocking tops, peeping out.

Simon clenched his teeth, fighting the smile. She was going to do it. His cock swelled and his grip on the book tightened. She was going to do it.

Her ass was at the edge of the sofa and her bared thighs were in plain view.

He looked down at the book and read, “Maureen let her thighs fall open.” Suzanne’s thighs opened too and there was the gleam white and Simon knew she’d worn little cotton panties, just like Maureen.

Just as the cushion’s fabric had held her skirt so had the skirt held her panties and now they were uncomfortably tight across her pussy. She needed to hook a finger in either side of them and ease them away from herself but she was held by the story. There was no way Suzanne was going to stray from it and she prayed he wouldn’t either.

She knew the next move of course; she knew the plot word for word. He should get up and come to kneel between her feet.

Simon got to his feet, still holding the book. It hurt to stand, his erect cock was trapped inside his briefs, this discomfort hadn’t happened in the story. He moved across to her, knelt and put the book on the sofa beside her.

“Perhaps you’d better read for a while, my hands and mouth will be occupied if I remember the plot.” He didn’t need any prompts from his book but this was a delightful game to play.

He reached into his pants and eased his cock straight. He felt the slickness of his own precum on his fingertips.

Simon put his hands, palms down, on her thighs, just above her knees. The rough smoothness of the nylon was a turn on as always, there was surely nothing like tight stockings on soft flesh. She picked up the book and began reading, the tremble in her voice betraying her arousal. He followed her words with his own actions.

He slid his hands up, up slowly, to her stocking tops in time with her words. His fingertips found the warm skin of her thighs and slowly he let his hands explore until they were on her hips. His wrists and forearms had taken her skirt higher. He breathed the scent of her, a heady mix of perfume and the heat of her arousal. Her cotton-clad mound was inches from his face.
He turned his head and rested it in the nakedness of her lap.

Suzanne’s insides seemed to melt. She looked down; Simon’s eyes were closed. His beard tickled her thigh and she could feel a hint of stubble on his cheek. She wanted to touch his face. His hands were high on her hips, his arms along her thighs and the book told her what he’d do next. Her ex’ had never done anything like this to her in four years. Her pussy seemed to almost ache with need. She glanced at the book and took a deep breath.

Simon turned his head and slowly pressed his face into the warmth between her thighs. He heard Suzanne’s sharp gasp.

He breathed in, slow and deep, savouring the wonderful scent of her. He wasn’t sure what pheromones were or if they had a smell but his body knew and he felt his near-rigid cock swell and grow. His lips formed a kiss and he pressed them into the cotton of her panties. He could feel her softness yielding against his lips.

In response she thrust forward and opened her legs wider, offering herself.

Simon sank lower, his ass on his heels, letting his mouth slide down deeper. They were wet; her panties were very wet. He heard her make a little mewing noise above him and she breathed out an ‘Oh God.’ Oh fuck yes!’ The exact words in the story.

She had never felt so happy, so ready to burst with joy. She’d known it could be like this, had dreamed of it, had tried to make it thus with her hands and with toys. Now it was being done to her by another, done the way she knew it should be done. She thought she might die from it and didn’t care at all.

His face between her legs was driving her insane and she still had her panties on and his cock was two feet away. Even so, she was having a meltdown.

He stopped nuzzling her and lifted his face. Protest parted her lips and she realised she let her hand and the book drop to the sofa.

“Can’t we just …?” She wanted to beg, ‘Can’t we just fuck and forget about the book?’ But she knew that would spoil the whole thing somehow. With a sigh she raised the book.

Simon slid his hands up and around and carefully slipped his fingers into the front of her panties. He pulled the fabric into a narrow strip that he guided between her pussy lips. She craned her neck to watch. Her panties covered her not at all now and her plump pussy lips were divided by the tight-stretched strip of cotton.

Suzanne knew what would happen next and held her breath. He lowered his face again and her whole body tensed in anticipation. He opened his mouth and gently bit her left labia. It didn’t hurt, not quite but the sensation of his teeth doing that, doing it there! He was biting her pussy, pretending to eat her. She brought her free hand to the back of his head and ground herself against his mouth.

Although she'd trimmed her pubic hair to a neat triangle he was thankful she wasn’t shaved. His lips and teeth held her while he let his tongue lick and play with the curls in his mouth. He bit harder and she tensed but made no protest so he bit until she gave a little squeal. He released her and went for the other lip.

Suzanne simply lost it then, she dropped the book and brought that hand to join the first. She pulled his face hard against her pussy and proceeded to hump against him. In seconds it seemed she was out of control as the orgasm swept through her. She was having sex with his mouth and loving it. She came and came and begged for more, sobbing and fighting for breath. Nobody had ever brought her to climax orally before. Her whole body was out of control as she squirmed and writhed with the intensity of what was sweeping through her.

Finally she stilled and then was quiet, save for the sound of her trying to catch her breath. Simon came up for air, wet-faced and smiling. He sat up and rested his hands on the sofa on either side of her knees.

“That wasn’t the way it was in the book.”

“I don’t think Maureen was as horny or as inexperienced,” she paused, “I’m sorry, I just lost it.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were wonderful. Even if you did bruise my nose.”

She sprawled on the sofa in glorious disarray, unknowing, perhaps uncaring, that her skirt was hiked, legs spread. “My God that was incredible. Nobody ever did that to me before, not like that.”

Her hand strayed downwards. “God, I’m soaked.”

In sudden embarrassment she tried to close her legs, her other hand grabbed for the hem of her skirt. Simon was still between her legs of course. Her hands flew to her face and she burst into tears.

Simon had never had quite this reaction before but he did his best. “Don’t cry, you just had a happy experience. You look sweet and you’re supposed to be wet.” He reached with his fingertips and spread her panties to cover her pussy. She flinched at his touch and he bent his head and kissed the wet cotton. She moaned softly.

“I’ve gotta go pee,” she said.

“That’s not in the book.”

“Neither is wetting the hotel’s sofa.”

Simon got awkwardly to his feet so she could get up. He was thinking about a chapter later in the book. She saw his expression.

“A penny for them,” she asked as he helped her up.


“A penny for your thoughts, you had a wicked grin on your face.” She shifted her feet and he realised she really did need to go.

“Oh, nothing, you reminded me of something.”


“Oh it was nothing.” He realised he was being defensive and he was blushing.

“Oh my God! That scene! You were thinking about that scene, in the bathroom?”

“Yes I was.” He was grinning like a fool and he knew it.

“That is so hot, the way you describe it.” With that she headed quickly for the bathroom, hobbling a little and saying, “Ooh I’ve really gotta go.” The door lock clicked loudly announcing that one of his favourite fantasies wasn’t going to happen right then.

He sat on the couch and waited, amazed at the way a perfectly normal evening had suddenly turned out. She was a delight.

A few minutes later the bathroom door unlocked and her hand appeared, “My purse please, could you hand me my purse?”

He obliged and wondered what was happening.

When she re-emerged she looked much the same. Perhaps her makeup had been retouched, her eyes looked darker, bigger and surely her lipstick brighter, whatever, she looked lovely. He sat and watched her.

She went to the chair where he’d sat and picked up his beer and drank the half-glass that remained. “An orgasm like that leaves a girl thirsty I guess.”

Next she came over the where he sat, bent and picked up the book. “Now, where were we?”

He smiled up at her, “I remember it quite clearly.” He stood and gestured at the couch.

Suzanne nodded and sat down. “Mmm, so do I.” She flicked through the pages until she found the right place. She glanced up at Simon and read, ‘He got to his feet and Maureen reached for his belt buckle.’

Suzanne put down the book and he took a step nearer. He felt a tremor of excitement run through him as her hands reached out towards him. She fumbled a while with the buckle but eventually got it unfastened. She took the tag of his zipper and drew it slowly down, very slowly. He felt, rather than heard, the buzz of it.

His cock stirred as she undid the button at the waistband and, with a jingle from his pocket change, his pants slid to his ankles. She turned and picked up the book. She was teasing him he realised in a mix of delight and dismay.

‘Maureen sat and gazed at the contours of the bulge at the front of his briefs,’ she read.

“Nice bulge, nice contours.”

Her hand reached out and touched him. He gave an involuntary gasp. His cock began its swelling and straightening.

Suzanne’s heart seemed to be hammering in her throat. She’d never done this to a man before. She sensed the power of the moment but also realised that her earlier orgasm had done little to reduce the horniness that possessed her. She was touching him through the soft grey cotton of his briefs, feeling the roundness of his balls, the ridge formed by his cock. That cock was growing.

Her self-restraint slipped away and she slid her hands round him to dig her fingers in to his ass and press her face against that lovely bulge. With nose and mouth she nuzzled at him, turning her face this way and that. His cock became huge, or so it seemed. She’d dreamed of doing things like this to a man. There’d been nothing like this in four years of empty marriage. But now it seemed so natural. Next she’d pull down his briefs and do it all again.

She pulled back reluctantly. Where the head of his cock strained against the fabric there was a dark patch. That was precum he was leaking. Just like in the story his cock was producing precum and it was doing it because of her.

She reached for him again, hooking fingers in the elastic waistband and easing the briefs carefully out and down. His cockhead appeared and she held her breath, her hands moved slowly down. When he was exposed she paused to look. How primitive his cock looked with its veins tracing random lines and the skin so tight looking.

“I’ve never …,” she breathed the words, “I’ve never seen one so up-close.”

The wrinkled ball sac below his rearing penis fascinated her. She loved the red-tinged hair that sprouted everywhere.

Of course she did it again; grabbed his ass and buried her face in him, breathing his musky warmth. She turned her face, her cheek against the beautiful rigidity of his cock. He groaned above her.

She pulled back again and reached a small hand to grasp him, she squeezed and sure enough a jewel appeared from the little slit, as per the book. And, as per the story she leaned forward and took it with her tongue-tip. She closed her mouth and tasted, sweet and salty. The inside of her pussy seemed to convulse, an involuntary clenching as body and brain reacted. God! She was in a hotel room, licking a man’s cock. She giggled.

“Giggling at my cock isn’t in the book,” he told her.

She knew that of course but she knew too what was next.

Since that awful fiasco in her teens she’d never sucked a cock. Could she do it now, as she was supposed to? To gain a little time she reached for the book which was open, face down, on the sofa. She handed it to him.

Simon took the book wondering if she’d really follow the story. Already the whole thing had gone further than he’d dreamed it would. He cleared his throat and began, ‘Patrick was close to the brink when she licked the head of his cock. She looked up at him, her eyes huge.’

He looked down and she raised herself off her heels and kissed the end of his cock again, then took the head into her mouth. Simon lowered the book and closed his eyes for a moment but he had to watch. She looked up and her eyes did look big and round with what seemed, in his imagination, to be a worshipping look. Her lips looked red and swollen and slowly she slid them down him, sucking him in. In and in went his cock with wonderful slowness until, finally, she gagged slightly and out it slid again.

Then he was indeed near the brink, the pressure seemed to build and he knew that first spasm was close. She seemed to sense it too because she slid her mouth off him and blew gently, chilling his wet skin. Simon realised she must know the story by heart.

Now Suzanne wanted to do everything, all at once. Cursing the book she took his spit-slick cock in her hands and began to jerk him off. One hand was stroking the length of him, the other rolling its palm over the head. In no time it seemed he was moaning and telling her to stop before it was too late, then begging her never to stop.

His hips bucked, he sobbed and she felt his first jet spurt into her hand, against her palm. Surprised, delighted she took the hand away and the second hit her between the eyes. She squealed in delight, this was just like the story. A third spurt and she put her mouth over him to catch the fourth. It tasted just like his precum, not really much taste at all. Not the awful flavour she’d half expected. It took an effort to swallow what she’d caught but she did it. With her hands she gently milked out the last few drops, pearly white over her knuckles.

“I’ve got to sit down,” he said, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.

He kicked clumsily free of his pants and briefs and sat heavily on the sofa. Suzanne crawled over and knelt beside him, her head on his lap. The little slit in the head of his cock was barely an inch from her mouth. She could smell the faint bleach-like scent of his come.

His cock was small now, gone the big, beautiful column that had filled her hands and mouth. She worried that he’d not be able to get it up again. The book said he would but she remembered her ex’ and the way he slept the sleep of the dead after they’d had their all too brief couplings. Hopefully the book would be right. Simon was slumped back his eyes closed and happy grin on his face. It was an even match so far, one cum each.

Simon’s heart and lungs slowly returned to their normal pace and he peeped at her through slitted eyes. She was quite lovely. Her thought her brown hair would look well in a ponytail. The softness of her breasts pressed against his knee and thigh. Some of his come still glistened on her forehead and the side of her nose. She didn’t seem aware of it. She’d actually swallowed, actually, actually swallowed; he’d not expected that.

He thought about the rest of the chapter. He prayed she’d stay, stay and play. He’d not felt such joy in a very long time.

“Shall we take a well earned break?” he asked.

“Fine by me.” She got to her feet and went to the mini-bar, opened it and bent to look at the contents. She knew he’d be gazing up her short skirt at her ass. She liked the idea. ‘You’re quite the little slut Sooz,’ she said to herself.

“Another beer?”

“Beer’s fine.”

They were quoting the book almost word for word she realised and said, “Cocksucking’s thirsty work.”

She carried two bottles back to where he sat. She bent to pick up his briefs giving him a look down her blouse and noticed his eyes were drawn there. She handed bottles and underwear to him. “Don’t cut your hand, I can never open those silly screw-off tops.”

“To book-signings.”

“To erotic writers,” she said. They clinked bottles and drank.

Suzanne picked up the book and read silently. Her thighs closed and she took her bottom lip under her top teeth. She was suddenly looking forward to the next pages.

She glanced at her watch.

Simon noticed and his heart sank. Hating the words, he said, “Is it getting late?”

“Late? Would you like me to go?”

“Lord no! I’m sitting here praying you’ll stay.”

She tapped the open book with her finger. “Leave? No, let’s at least finish the chapter?”

He turned towards her and she looked down. His cock was noticeably longer and fatter. “I think perhaps he wants me to stay,” she said quietly.

Simon glanced down. “Yes, we both do.”

Suzanne took off her watch and put it, face down, on the small table at her elbow. “There, time is on hold.”

She drank three swallows of beer and sensed she had a slight buzz. She’d not eaten since she’d left her apartment. “Mustn’t get too drunk, anything might happen.”

“Indeed, just about anything.”

“Back to the story?” she asked.

“By all means.” He held out his hand and she passed him the book.

He read, ‘Maureen knelt astride his lap and reached for the top button on her blouse.’

Suzanne took another swallow of beer, put the bottle down and stood up. She turned, knelt astride his lap, her ass on his knees and reached for the top button of her blouse.

Simon licked his lips. He was going to get to see those breasts.

With the last button undone she opened her blouse and shrugged it off. Her bra was a lacy, white affair. It was low cut and gave her a delightful cleavage. His cock responded. She reached behind her and unfastened the hooks. She slipped the straps off her shoulders and the bra joined her blouse on the sofa beside them.

Her breasts were big and looked delightfully heavy. His hands moved of their own accord, he badly wanted to touch.

“They’re too big,” she said quietly, as if she feared he’d think so too.

“They’re beautiful,” he said with a sincerity that made her close her eyes and smile.

The nipples were big and dark. They jutted from their dark surrounds. He thought they begged to be loved.

“Are you a breast man too?”


“Well the hero of your tale says he’s a pussyholic.”

“I guess I’m both. How could I not love those?” he whispered.

She reached down and took his hands and placed them on her breasts.

They were so soft, so heavy, their skin like warm silk. His cock was rigid again. Jutting up between them. He circled his palms on her nipples and she moaned, squirming her ass on his lap. He kept his hands moving and she began breathing through her mouth.

He took his hands away and looked. Hers were the biggest nipples he’d seen. Erect now like his cock, they just had to be suckled. He took her right breast in both hands and lowered his head. With his lips round the nipple he sucked gently and teased with his tongue. He felt an awful urge to bite. He did, trying not to hurt her.

She moaned and her body went rigid. She scrambled off his lap and sprawled on the sofa beside him. With one hand she pulled up her skirt and clamped the other over her mound and began rubbing herself.

He watched and knew they were about to stray from the story. He wanted his cock under those panties and into her heat and he knew with an awful certainty that she wanted it too.

But some strange perverse part of him wanted to follow the story, to tease them both by prolonging this first encounter. He would, if he could, stay with the plot.

He knelt in front of her again. Her thighs were spread wide. Her little white panties had tiny blue flowers on and he knew she’d put on fresh ones when she’d visited the bathroom.

Her eyes opened and she looked at him. Her hand clawed the panties to one side baring herself to him. Her pubic hair was almost coppery. She held herself open and wetness gleamed. Helpless, he plunged his face into that wetness; his lips found the top of her cleft, found the prominent bud of her clitoris. He’d barely touched her with his questing tongue before she came.

She humped and bucked under his mouth. Somehow she got her legs up on his shoulders, her heels grinding into his back. Her thighs clamped his head and she just fucked his face. She was wet and hot and Simon had to fight for breath.

Her hands were on the back of his head, pressing him into her and she just kept coming. He thought he’d drown or suffocate.

Finally she subsided and he managed to get her feet back on the floor. He raised himself. She seemed to glow. Her body had a sheen of sweat on it. Her big breasts moved wonderfully as she fought for breath. Her pussy gaped, shining with her juice and his saliva. Her panties were drawn to one side, cruelly tight. She couldn’t have been more fuckable.

When she gasped, “Please …,” her meaning was very clear.

Simon moved closer to her on his knees and she writhed her ass until she was all but slipping off the sofa.

His cock slid into her in one steady thrust.

His earlier orgasm made his second a struggle. With his hands under her ass he fucked her desperately. She squeezed her breasts cruelly with her hands, like in a porn movie. Just as he was wondering if he could make it, the first tremors began inside him. He was going to come, he was going to come. With each thrust there was a slap of him against her and he was grunting, “Yes!” each time.

Her mind and body caught his rhythm and in sweet unison they came, her first contraction, his first spurt. He thought his whole being would empty into her through his cock.

Her pussy walls milked at his spasming cock, the ripples sucking him empty. Her contractions seemed to go on forever. She was sobbing and he was gasping for breath. They were both near exhaustion.

There was no post coital tenderness from either of them. They were beyond that. He sat on the floor between her feet as if he’d climbed a thousand stairs. Suzanne was sprawled, perhaps asleep, perhaps unconscious. Their combined juices oozed from her, out of her pussy, down the cleft of her ass and onto his knee.

He gazed at her big nipples, the strands of sweat-wet hair across her face and hoped she’d never leave.

Her eyes flickered open and she looked down at him. She sought words but found none. They just looked at each other. He ran the backs of his fingers gently across the wet curls of her pussy.
“What an incredible thing this is,” he said softly. “Mustn’t let it catch cold.” He gently pulled the panties across to cover her mound.

She sighed, took a deep breath. “Will you read the whole book to me?”


“No silly, now we rest. Read to me tomorrow.” She sounded half asleep.

“What do we do when it’s finished?”

“You write me another and another and …” she began snoring softly.

Copyright: November 2009. Julius rhthreadxxx@yahoo.caAll rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.